


Touch

by rattlemeoldbones



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpine the Cat, Anal Sex, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Big dick Steve Rogers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Blowjobs, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Closeted Character, Cuddling, Depression, Flashbacks, Gay Bucky Barnes, Goat Farming, Happy Ending, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Beta Read, POV Bucky Barnes, Pets, Phone Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rutting, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Suicidal Thoughts, They finally get to retire, Top Steve Rogers, Touch-averse Bucky, Vomiting, breakdowns, make out sessions, phantom pains, supportive Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 13:56:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rattlemeoldbones/pseuds/rattlemeoldbones
Summary: Steve found Bucky. Now it's a long road to recovery. A gentle hand or a kind touch isn't something Bucky has known for a long time, but now that he has a choice, now that he's getting better, maybe with time he can know what that's like again.





	1. Chapter 1

There were a lot of things Bucky wasn't great at anymore. Touch was one of them.

 

Not all touch, but the gentle ones. It had been so long since someone held his hand or pat his shoulder. All sense of touch for decades had been nothing but pain. Punches. Broken bones. The horrible shocks from the chair.

 

The first one to touch him without it hurting, after all that time, was Steve.

 

With Steve it was easier to accept. He didn't flinch so hard, because something in the back of his mind said: “ _safe_ ” and “ _home_ ”. Still, even with Steve things were... slow. They had to be. Otherwise it was just too much too fast.

 

They touched one another after their fight with Tony. Stark's kid. Steve had put an arm around him and helped him to his feet, sat beside him during their ride to Wakanda where Bucky ended up leaning against his shoulder after falling asleep, but that was all they did. Bucky didn't even think of doing anything more. There was just too much going on in his head now.

 

For so long it had been only one thing: the mission, and now it was... well. It was anything he wanted it to be, and therein lied the problem.

 

Too much.

 

To cope his mind shut off a lot. He sat and stared at the middle-distance as doctors worked on the shattered remains of his arm, even though Steve was right beside him; never leaving his side. He didn't think much, just nodded along to what they said as they patched them both up.

 

They got separate rooms.

 

Steve stayed by him as much as he could, but for some doctor visits he wasn't around. He seemed to know the King, so that's where Bucky assumed he was. The person who he started to see the most was apparently the King's sister, and she seemed nice. Kind. Gentle. Being around her was almost as comforting as being around Steve. She even got him to show the ghost of a smile once or twice.

 

He wasn't smiling now though, not as Shuri laid out her plans for him.

 

“So I think...” Shuri grimaced mid-sentence, like she dread what she had to say next, “... that you should go back into cryostasis. It will be the safest way to remove all the triggers from your mind.”

 

Bucky didn't even need to think about it. He nodded right away and Shuri looked shocked, having expected if not a little resistance than at least some deliberation.

 

“Are you sure?” She asked, like the nod had been a hallucination.

 

“I'm--” Bucky started to say, but his voice warbled and broke. He was still getting used to using it regularly again. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Yes. I'm sure.”

 

At that Shuri nodded and took a breath through her nose before letting it out again. Her arms crossed a little tighter over her chest. “I'll just need a day to prepare. That will give you enough time to let your friend know.”

 

She offered a kind smile and walked off to get everything ready, giving Bucky the go-ahead to leave. He dropped off from the exam table and walked out, and it was no surprise that Steve was stood right by the door, folded arms coming undone the moment he saw Bucky to close the distance between them. Bucky couldn't help but look up at that soft smile spreading across his face, loving in ways he knew he remembered but somehow sad too.

 

“How'd it go?”

 

Bucky took a deep breath and let it out, his hand reaching up to push back some of the long, greasy hair from his face. Bathing was just one of those things he just... couldn't seem to care much about right now, like the filth outside should reflect how grimy and disgusting he felt on the inside.

 

“Okay,” he finally breathed out as they started walking down the hall towards their rooms.

 

“Just okay?” Steve asked, questioning without prying too hard.

 

They stopped at an elevator and Bucky didn't speak again until they were inside and Steve had hit the number for their floor inside the palace. (Could it be called a palace when it looked like something out of a science fiction novel?)

 

“I'm going back into cryo.” Bucky said plainly. Best to just rip the band-aid right off.

 

He could _feel_ Steve go tense and stop breathing. “Wh-”

 

“It's to get the triggers out of my head.” He cut Steve off, wanting to get right to the topic at hand. Letting it linger would just make things worse. He only had a day left.

 

Bucky's steely gray eyes looked at Steve, for a moment forgetting he was taller than him and needing to trail up his chest to meet his eyes. “I need to do this.”

 

Steve was looking at him like his world had just shattered, but after a moment managed to collect some of himself and nodded. His mouth set in a strong line, and somewhere in Bucky's mind said _“thats what he does when he would cry otherwise”_. Bucky finds himself swallowing hard as they reach their floor and takes that as an excuse to look away and step out. Steve follows.

 

“... How long?” Steve finally manages as they continue towards their rooms.

 

“Not sure. A few months to a year, I think. It's uncharted territory.” Bucky pauses. “But I'll be back.”

 

At that they stop at their rooms, side-by-side, and Bucky turns to look at Steve with his hand on the doorknob. “I promise.”

 

Steve nods and reaches for his own door, but before Bucky realizes it his mouth is opening.

 

“Stevie,” he says, and isn't sure where that nickname came from, but somewhere in his head says _“trying to be cute”_ , even if he's not even smiling or feeling happy as he says it. Either way it gets Steve to stop and almost perk up. “I wouldn't mind you hangin' out with me on my last day before I go under.”

 

The way Steve smiles does something to Bucky's stomach that he isn't sure he can point emotions to.

 

“I'd like that a lot,” he says, and instead of going into his own room follows Bucky into his. Bucky can feel a small tug at his lips, the barest hint of a smile.

 

They didn't talk about the impending cryostasis, but they did talk here and there. Conversation with Steve was about as easy as it ever got for Bucky, even if they were talking about nothing at all, or what was on TV, or something they had found from modern day that they couldn't believe, all while sitting on near opposite sides of the couch.

 

Once it grew late Steve would return to his room and Bucky would go to bed, even if bed was a pillow and blanket on the floor, the mattress being much too soft.

 

… Sleep never came easy or restful. Maybe an hour passed before Bucky would wake up in a cold sweat and for nearly a solid minute think the sweat on his skin was blood from someone he had killed. It took him until he ran to the bathroom and flicked on the light to see that it wasn't, and even then he had to turn over the blanket and pillow to double-check there was no blood just to be sure.

 

He didn't sleep again after that, instead choosing to turn on the TV and stare mindlessly ahead as much as he could, but even that came with its difficulties. The strangest things would set him off, like a woman in one of the infomercials looking like someone he remembered choking to death, and he could see her eyes roll up and color fade from her face before he even knew what the memory was from. It would send him vomiting in the sink and crumpling to the floor to lay there for hours. Just staring at the cabinet in front of him.

 

But as it got earlier he would get himself up and access the damage. At least his training helped him keep tabs on his body, to keep things running as smoothly as he could. It took him awhile to brush his teeth so he could eat breakfast without it tasting like stale vomit, but he did it. That was an accomplishment.

 

Then he should finally shower. He would be sitting in his own filth for awhile in cryo. It made sense to do it.

 

But god. Actually _doing it_.

 

Bucky spent more time staring at the shower than being _in_ the shower, but he got it done, and by then it was time. A guard was at his door to escort him down to get things started.

 

Steve was already there. Showered. Dressed. Smelling like some sort of oaky body wash. Bucky realized he liked it, and that was a bit of a realization.

 

He _liked_ something. Even if it was just a smell coming from Steve. It almost made him choke up.

 

Bucky sat on the exam table as Shuri went through all the details of what she planned to do, Steve standing close enough to him that he could smell him throughout the whole thing. It comforted him in an odd way, knowing he was close.

 

“We'll be putting you under before we start to cryo sequence. It's less painful that way.” Shuri said, and Bucky found himself a little surprised. He had been prepared for the icy shock that came with being put into cryostasis without realizing that things were different here. That everything didn't have to be painful.

 

It was strange. He didn't even feel relieved at that. He just felt confused. That seemed like an odd emotion to feel when you were told something _wouldn't_ be painful, but here he was.

 

“I'll be here the whole time.” Steve said, a hand coming to rest on Bucky's shoulder. He found himself turning to smile up at him.

 

“Thanks,” he said. “You'll be here when I come out?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Bucky's smile got a little easier.

 

As Shuri's explanation grew to a close, she instructed him to lay back while one of her assistants drew up a needle to put him under. “Think of it like taking a nap so deep where you don't dream.”

 

“That's a relief.” Bucky joked, and Steve was the only one to chuckle. His hand squeezed Bucky's shoulder and Bucky looked up to meet his eyes. Something told him that was the last thing he wanted to see before falling asleep.

 

The needle sank into his arm.

 

“I'll be right here when you wake up.” Steve said, his sentence tapering off and becoming muddy and thick as Bucky found himself growing incredibly tired.

 

Bucky wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure what. His lips moved and he mumbled, but no real words came out.

 

His eyes closed and everything went dark. His mind went peacefully blank.

 

–

 

Steve upheld his promise.

 

When Bucky came out of cryo he was there, right by his side. A blanket was draped over him as he shook and shivered, unable to control his body as it regained feeling and tried to adjust. He remembered this happening many times before. Remembered the numb sting from head to toe. He might have escaped it going in, but coming out it seemed he wasn't so lucky.

 

“Sorry for the cold, but we need you awake while you thaw out.” Shuri said from his other side as she read his vitals on what was basically thin air, no screen or visible projector spreading it out in front of her. Bucky tried to nod, but it just came out as another shake, so instead he turned his eyes to Steve. A smile tugged his lips.

 

“K-Kept y-y-our p-prom-mise.” He managed out, and Steve smiled back at him.

 

“Of course I did.”

 

What followed was a lot of wellness tests to make sure he was alright, as well as plenty of blankets and heating packs to get his core temperature back to normal. They left him be for that, at least everyone but Steve.

 

Bucky didn't say anything, too busy focusing on his breathing and trying to get warm to waste any energy on niceties. He didn't need to do that with Steve anyway. They could sit side-by-side in silence without it becoming uncomfortable or awkward.

 

Eventually though, when Bucky was back to full health, it was time to test it.

 

Even though Shuri was more than confident she had been successful, they had to be sure.

 

_Bucky_ had to be sure.

 

He sat on the exam table, Steve, Shuri, and the Dora Milaje a safe distance away, but all of them prepared to defend themselves should the trigger words summon the Winter Soldier.

 

“Longing,” Shuri said, and Bucky closed his eyes. His grip on the edge of the table tightened, and he was _so_ glad the weapon that took residence over his left arm was gone.

 

“Rusted,” she continued, and Bucky stopped breathing.

 

“Furnace, daybreak, seventeen--”

 

Shuri's voice calmly read through each one, until finally hitting the last word.

 

“Freight car.”

 

Bucky was compressed so tightly into himself he couldn't feel. Every muscle of his body was tense. Shuri said something but he didn't hear it, or the collective sigh of relief. All he could hear was his own blood pounding in his ears until Steve spoke, cutting through it all.

 

“That's it, Buck. It's all out.”

 

And suddenly all of it came crashing out at once.

 

Bucky choked out a painful sob and his legs curled up to his chest while his arm pulled to his middle, his body moving on its own as he compressed into the smallest ball he could manage while still sat on the exam table.

 

“Buck. Bucky.” Steve's voice was close now, comforting and grounding. Bucky didn't see him hesitate, all he felt were a pair of strong arms wrapping around him and holding him close as he sobbed.

 

“Shhh, shhh...” he cooed, rubbing Bucky's back as he cried. He didn't even know _why_ he was crying. Relief? Maybe just the stress he had felt when the words were spoken? He didn't know. He didn't even notice the passage of time.

 

Steve said something. He could feel the vibration of him speaking through his chest, but he didn't know what it was. When his crying finally died down and he started to unfurl from the ball he had curled himself into, he realized that everyone was gone but Steve, giving them space.

 

As Bucky dropped his legs Steve unwrapped his arms and took a small step back to give him some room to breathe, and he _did_ breathe finally. Deep breaths in and out. His long hair was caked in places to his face from the tears, but he felt... better. Just a little.

 

“Sorry...” he found himself mumbling.

 

“Nothin' to be sorry for, Buck.” Steve said. “That was a lot. But it worked.”

 

When Bucky looked up at him Steve was smiling, and maybe it was contagious because Bucky found himself smiling a little too.

 

“Yeah,” he choked out, and looked back down at nothing in particular. Steve was still in his uniform. He smelled like dust and gunpowder and gasoline, so he had probably come right from a mission.

 

He noticed he wasn't wearing his gloves.

 

After a beat Bucky reached out with his hand and took hold of Steve's. It was smooth, like he never used them. That had to be thanks to the serum.

 

It was just as Bucky remembered it.

 

He gave Steve the smallest tug, and that was all he needed to step back into Bucky's space and stay there. He leaned his head against Steve's broad chest while their fingers intertwined, and Steve's other arm came up to hold him again, palm pressed flat between his shoulder blades.

 

It was the first touch Bucky had initiated since coming back.

 

“... You grew a beard.” He said quietly, voice muffled by Steve's uniform. Bucky smiled as he felt the chuckle vibrate into his skin from his chest.

 

“Uh, yeah. Helps me blend in a little more.” Steve said, reaching up with his free hand to give it a scratch.

 

Bucky closed his eyes and squeezed Steve's hand.

 

“I like it.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had some time and was too tired to do anything else, so churned this out.
> 
> I might have one more G-rated chapter before things get heated, but again I'm not going to make any promises of anything.
> 
> Enjoy!

Steve never stayed long.

 

Unlike Bucky who, all his issues aside, was just _done_ with fighting, Steve still had a lot more to take care of. He had filled Bucky in on what was going on with his friends, the Avengers, and everything happening in the world he felt he needed to fix, but he knew that there were very few things that would ever stop Steve from fighting. The guy had been _born_ to fight even when his body was ill equipped to do it, so there was no surprise or heartbreak when Steve left again.

 

Truth be told, as much as he loved Steve's presence, Bucky needed to have time alone too. Time alone to figure himself out and try to heal.

 

Things got easier. Slowly. He went to regular appointments to Shuri to make sure everything was alright with his head, but even she couldn't help fix the main issues. That was for someone else's expertise.

 

Therapy had been something you almost laughed at back in the 40's, but these days it seemed much more widely acceptable. Shuri hooked him up with someone who was well-respected and would treat him well, and they had a first meeting to see if they would mesh and things turned out... okay. Not excellent, Bucky was still hesitant about the whole thing, but they had some good talks.

 

Shell shock was called post-traumatic stress disorder now, and according to his therapist his case was, obviously, severe.

 

… But it was nice to know he wasn't alone in feeling the things he felt, even if there were no other people he knew of that had gone through the same things he had.

 

The flashbacks, the vomiting, the nightmares. As strange as it was, it was nice to know all of that was _textbook_. It wasn't some unknown.

 

He saw his therapist once a week. They put him on medication to help ease him through the harder parts of his depression. Shuri suggested certain teas and smells to help him fall asleep.

 

It wasn't a fast recovery, but it _was_ a recovery.

 

When Steve wasn't around passing the time became a bit of a challenge, especially now that he wasn't on the run. There wasn't really anything to worry about anymore, not being in Wakanda. No one could even get to him here. He would sleep only when exhaustion took him, so it left a lot of time to kill.

 

He watched a lot of TV, especially whatever Shuri suggested. He read books. When he was having a particularly good day he would walk down into the lab and just watch her work. She never seemed to mind his presence, and he even asked a few things here and there. Science had always been an interest of his, it was just that he had never been able to pursue it.

 

Steve would come and go too, but never stay long.

 

Things were getting easier between them.

 

As time drew on they no longer sat on opposite ends of the couch. At some point they both gravitated towards the middle and Bucky leaned his head on Steve's shoulder, and a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders and they sat like that for the rest of the night without Bucky feeling like there were ants crawling all over his skin.

 

But of course, recovery wasn't a straight line. There were bad days too, and sometimes they fell on the days that Steve was there even though Bucky _desperately_ didn't want them to. It wasn't that anything particularly bad had happened that day, it was just that Bucky felt _bad_ and he hated that Steve had to suffer through it with him.

 

He was in the kitchen making them popcorn so they could finish their current Netflix marathon when Steve walked in to help get them drinks and slipped in behind Bucky, something he had done plenty of times before. His hand ghosted over the small of Bucky's back and his nose pressed into his long brown hair and it was like someone had put a shocker at the contact points.

 

Bucky tensed all over and turned his head away, taking a step out of his touch. “Steve-”

 

But before he could say anything more Steve was already pulling away and taking a step back.

 

“Sorry, hands to myself today.” He said, and that just made Bucky feel even _worse_.

 

“... I should be the one sayin' sorry.” He said, voice quiet and hair doing its best at hiding his face. “'M sorry I'm like this.”

 

“We've been through this, you got nothing to be sorry about.” Steve insisted.

 

Bucky opened his mouth to argue, then remembered it was _Steve_ he would be arguing with and closed his mouth before opening it again with a different tactic. “I just... you're only here for a few days at a time, and I don't want to be _like this_ when you're here, but I can't stop it and...” Bucky found himself sighing and unsure where he was even going with this. He finally looked up at Steve with tired eyes. “I'm not worth you wasting your life on, Stevie. I don't want you waitin' on me.”

 

Steve leveled a gaze on him and folded his arms over his chest and Bucky just _knew_ he had struck a chord somewhere. “And what would I be waiting on, Buck?”

 

Bucky scoffed and flicked his head to get some of the hair from his eyes without needing to touch it with his hand, which he busied pouring the popcorn into a bowl. “You know what I'm talking about.”

 

“Enlighten me.” Steve says plainly in that way that said he knew _exactly_ what Bucky meant but he was going to make him say it.

 

Asshole.

 

Bucky set the empty bag of popcorn down on the counter with a _thump_ of his hand for emphasis on just how exasperated he was with this whole conversation already. “My mind might be a mess but I know what we used to be, sneakin' off whenever we could for some time alone. Afraid we'd get caught. You _know_ what I'm talkin' about.”

 

“I know what you're talkin' about.” Steve finally admitted, but offered nothing more and expected Bucky to continue with his point. Bucky just sighed.

 

“What I'm saying is that I don't know if it'll ever be like that for us again. I don't know how long, if ever, I'm going to stop...” he made a vague gesture to the entirety of himself, “being like this. Being all twitchy and havin' issues with _you_ of _all people_ touching me.” He found himself laughing a little with no humor in it at all. “It's ridiculous. You shouldn't wait for me to get better because I might never _be_ better, and--”

 

“Buck,” Steve said firmly, cutting him off. Whatever steam Bucky had died and came out of his chest as a loud, heavy sigh. Steve stepped closer and let his arms rest on the counter top, close enough Bucky could hear him speak softly without touching him.

 

“Do you still love me?” Steve asked, quiet, like somewhere close someone would overhear even though these days they were safe. Safer here than anywhere else in the world. Old habits died hard.

 

Bucky sucked in his chapped lower lip and met Steve's eyes. He was too tired to even push forth the effort of lying to Steve.

 

“Yes,” he whispered back.

 

“'N I still love you. I always have, ever since I was twelve years old. Things might be different to how they were, but a lot of things are now. I'm not _waiting_ for anything, Bucky. You're here. You're alive. Even if you can't hold my hand for the rest of my life I'm still happy to stand by your side and watch you burn popcorn.”

 

Bucky looked like he was about to cry until that last bit, his face scrunching up before he glanced down at the slightly charred popcorn, then back up again. He put on an affronted look. “Well then you're just a fucking idiot,” he said simply, and grabbed the bowl of popcorn before turning to head back into the living room.

 

Steve laughed and followed right behind him.

 

...

 

The rest of the night wasn't spent on _opposite_ sides of the couch exactly, but they didn't touch more than a casual brush of their shoulders while they finished their marathon before Steve went back to his room. He would be gone the following morning, and at least by that time Bucky was feeling up to giving him a brief hug.

 

Steve would be gone for a few weeks, come back for a couple of days, then leave again. That was their routine.

 

When he was around Bucky would tell him his progress with his therapist and the things they talked about, and as weeks grew into months Steve could definitely see the improvement even if Bucky couldn't.

 

He bathed a little more often, he slept a little more, he spent more time outside of his room. Bucky didn't notice himself getting better until Steve pointed it out, but he just shrugged it off. Your average person could do those things no problem, so to him was it _really_ progress?

 

Still, even he had to admit things between the two of them were getting easier, especially during one visit when it was raining really hard and it made everything just a little more lazy and sluggish. He had learned that Wakanda had a rainy season and this one would last a couple of months at least. A little depressing, but... it did make for nice cuddle weather.

 

They were sitting on the large couch inside Bucky's room, trying to get through another season of Game of Thrones, but Bucky hadn't slept very well the night before, and his eyelids were heavy as he tried to focus. Steve was laying on the other end of the couch, his legs stretched behind Bucky while Bucky's stretched in front of Steve.

 

After another bout nearly falling asleep he snapped his eyes open and blinked, focusing on the screen before Steve's voice called attention to look over to him instead.

 

“You wanna pause it?”

 

Bucky thought about that for a moment, then shifted his legs up, turned around, and lay in front of Steve without much fanfare even though Steve's eyes were wide. They had cuddled before, but not quite like this.

 

“Keep watchin',” Bucky mumbled, pressing his face into Steve's chest while grabbing his _very_ still arm and tugging it over him like a blanket to hold him into the couch and against his warm body. “Jus' tell me what happens.”

 

Bucky tucked his remaining arm between himself and Steve and closed his eyes, leaving Steve to look shocked all on his own.

 

“... Okay.” He said, fondness dripping on every syllable.

 

…

 

Nearly an hour passed before Bucky woke up again, but not from a start or a nightmare. It was natural this time, eyes blinking open as he let out a snort and moved his head from-- oh. Ew.

 

“Augh.” Bucky groaned as he pulled away from Steve's chest, which was now sporting a big patch of drool on his shirt.

 

“How d'you think I feel?” Steve chuckled over him, the arm still holding him to his chest, a thumb gently caressing back and forth over his bicep.

 

“Shoulda woke me up,” Bucky mumbled.

 

“Nah. It was nice.”

 

When Bucky looked up at Steve he was smiling, and Bucky gave him a sleepy smile right back before a tired, affectionate noise left his throat. He wiped his mouth off with his sleeve and turned to look at the TV, still playing episodes.

 

“So what'd I miss?”

 

…

 

The rest of the day went well. They had lunch later and then sat underneath an awning watching the rain before dinner, which they cooked together. By then they were up for more TV, and when that started to get boring they simply sat together talking or in companionable silence. As it started to get late, Steve leaving early the next morning, he got up to head to his own room beside Bucky's.

 

“I should at least try to get some sleep before I leave tomorrow.” Steve said while pulling himself up from the couch with a grunt and stretching his arms above his head. Bucky watched the muscles of his back flex underneath his too-small shirt and for a moment his brain told him it was wrong, because Steve was skinny, then corrected itself and reminded him that was a long time ago.

 

“Hey,” Bucky stopped him from the couch, but hesitated. Either way Steve was turning to look at him now, waiting. Bucky's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

 

“You can... stay here tonight?”

 

Steve's expression softened. “You're okay with that?”

 

After a beat Bucky nodded.

 

Steve smiled, “Okay. Let me just get a blanket and my pillows from--”

 

“No you fucking--” Bucky sighed and couldn't stop the dumb smile that spread across his face. “You can sleep in the same bed as me. Not-- not do anything, but... maybe things are okay enough to sleep together. Today.”

 

“ _Oh._ ” Steve blinked, then smiled. “Okay. Sure.”

 

Bucky shook his head. “Thinkin' I meant sleepin' on the couch you _dumbass_.” He threw a pillow at him, which Steve caught.

 

“I didn't want to assume!!” Steve was getting red in the face.

 

“Go get your crap.”

 

After a huff Steve did, in fact, go get his crap. He walked into the adjacent bedroom to grab his bag and come back, and by then Bucky was on his feet stretching too.

 

“Gonna go change. You sure this is okay?” Steve asked, and Bucky nodded.

 

“I'm sure. For tonight, anyway.”

 

After Steve nodded back he walked into the bathroom and closed the door to get changed. Bucky didn't bother, he was almost always in something he slept in. Getting changed or dressed into something nice was only reserved for when he went to see Shuri or his therapist. Typically he didn't leave his room much otherwise.

 

Bucky was sat on the edge of the bed when Steve came into the bedroom, circling around to get in on the other side.

 

“Hey, so-”

 

Steve paused, one knee on the mattress and his hand holding up the blankets to crawl under as he looked at the back of Bucky's head.

 

“I have nightmares. They get--”

 

“I know,” Steve said before Bucky could finish, and he turned around to look at him while Steve finished climbing into the bed. “I get them too.”

 

Bucky blinked and then huffed, turning around to stare at his hand in his lap. “What a messed up pair we are, huh?”

 

“Yeeap.” Steve smiled, watching as Bucky climbed into bed beside him.

 

They lay there, apart for a minute or two, before Bucky rolled over and wiggled until he was pressed into Steve's side.

 

It would be a peaceful night for the both of them.

 

When they woke the next morning it was still raining, and even Steve was having trouble getting out of bed, especially with Bucky dozing with his face shoved into his arm hidden by a mess of brown hair. As Bucky woke up a little more he rolled over and ran his hands through it to push it away from his face to better see Steve.

 

They didn't say anything at first, simply laying side-by-side, Steve watching as Bucky ran his hands through his hair to try and get it into something manageable enough where he could see.

 

“I like the hair.” Steve said after a few minutes of watching him, and Bucky turned to look at Steve with narrowed eyes.

 

“It's awful.”

 

“It's nice.”

 

“I haven't washed it in like two days.”

 

Steve just shrugged and Bucky huffed.

 

“You're making breakfast.”

 

Now it was Steve's turn to huff, “Why me?”

 

“Cause I said so.”

 

Steve laughed around his teeth and clicked his tongue. “ _Wow._ ”

 

Bucky just smiled.

 

Steve _did_ get up to make them breakfast and Bucky followed a few minutes later to at least help make coffee. They ate mostly in silence, with the conversation mostly centering around where Steve was going to be for the next few weeks and when he might be expected back.

 

It didn't last nearly long enough.

 

Before they knew it they were standing at his door, Steve with his bag slung over his shoulder as they said their goodbyes.

 

“I'll see you soon, Buck. Promise.” Steve said, and Bucky nodded numbly. He was usually good about watching Steve go. He knew he had to, that this was a part of who he was, but--

 

\--but when Steve turned and started to open the door Bucky grabbed at his arm and turned him back around towards him, and before his mind could realize what he was doing their lips were touching in a very brief, chaste kiss.

 

He was sure it was horrible. Bucky's lips were chapped and he wasn't ready for anything more, but all the same he realized Steve was looking down at him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

 

Bucky wasn't embarrassed or shocked. He had always been confident in his acts of intimacy, even if they lacked the same sexual charge they once had. He just met Steve's gaze with his own and locked them in place.

 

“Come back to me. That's an order.”

 

Steve seemed to snap out of it and smiled, getting that look where his eyes crinkled around the edges. “Yes sir.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky still suffers despite how far he's come, but still makes large strides forward both with his own recovery and his relationship with Steve.

Steve was woken up by heavy breathing.

 

It jostled him enough that he twitched hard before sitting up and turning in bed, looking at the lump on the edge, pressed as far from him as possible.

 

“Buck?” He asked, worried, before quickly turning to turn on the light on his side of the bed so he could see better.

 

The lump was indeed Bucky, curled up tight on the very edge of the bed with dark hair plastered to pale skin from sweat. His whole body was shaking and his hand was clutching desperately at where his body stopped and what remained of the prosthetic arm started.

 

“Buck. Bucky-” Steve hesitated, scooting closer until he could reach close and brush back some of the hair caked to his friend's forehead. Bucky twitched, startled like he hadn't heard Steve at all or notice the light turn on, gray eyes shooting open and looking at him in panic before they softened upon recognizing Steve.

 

“Stevie...” He managed to mumble out, his voice hoarse.

 

“Yeah, I'm here. Everything's okay, Buck.” Steve said quietly, brushing more hair out of Bucky's eyes. “Nightmare?”

 

Bucky's lips pressed into a firm line and he shook his head, a ragged breath blowing out his nose as he pressed half of his face hard into his pillow. “Hurts...” he managed to wheeze out.

 

“Hurts?” Steve asked, instantly on alert and scanning what he could see of Bucky's body, which was admittedly a lot of it considering he had gone to sleep without a shirt and had kicked off all the blankets.

 

“Arm,” Bucky managed. “My arm.”

 

“Y-... oh.”

 

Steve stalled, because a part of him wanted to blurt out ' _you don't have an arm anymore_ ' like some kind of idiot, like Bucky didn't _know_ that, but he swallowed that down and pulled the hair caked on Bucky's neck off his skin. “Can I do anything to help?”

 

“Got... meds in the bathroom.” Bucky mumbled, and after a quick nod Steve was vaulting out of bed to the attached bathroom.

 

He did have the foresight to grab his phone on the way out though, unlocking it and quickly googling about phantom pain to see if there was anything else he could do to help. He rummaged around in the medicine cabinet while looking at the screen, then quickly opened up his latest chat with Sam to shoot him a message. Steve had seen him talking to veterans with amputations more than once, so maybe he knew something.

 

_urgent question if your there_

_shoot_

_even tho its like 2am here_

_couldnt sleep_

_u ok?_

_yeah_

_bucks got phantom pain do you know anything that helps_

 

While he's waiting for a reply he finds the pain killers, strong ones to try and combat whatever knock-off super soldier serum is coursing through Bucky's veins, and finds a small glass to fill with water that looks like it sits in the bathroom for just this sort of occasion.

 

_oh shit uh_

_painkillers? massage maybe? everything else is like_

_doctor level stuff_

_ok_

 

Steve heads back into the bedroom with the glass and painkillers, shooting one last thing Sam's way.

 

_ty_

_means a lot_

_hope ur good_

_np man and you too_

_you both take care and call if you need anything_

_even tho ur in wakanda and im still hella fuckin jealous_

 

Steve can't help but smile at that and sets his phone down as soon as he's by the bed. He sets the water and medication down before helping Bucky up. From the looks of things Bucky had already been working on the area where the metal connected, but it was hard for someone to massage their own body. It was a little red too, and for a moment Steve saw his fingers dig into a set of scars that fit the width of them just a little too easily and his stomach dropped.

 

He wondered how lucid, how painful getting that arm had to be. He wondered how many times Bucky had woken up only to panic and start trying to claw it off of himself like it didn't belong. He--

 

\--he had to stop thinking about it if he wanted to help Bucky here in the now.

 

Steve helped Bucky up and handed him the painkillers, then the water, and he downed them easily. Before he could slump back into his sweaty pillow though, Steve kept him upright and met his eyes. “Mind if I try somethin'?”

 

Bucky was too exhausted to argue and nodded numbly.

 

Steve climbed back into bed, but instead of getting back on his side he wedged himself between Bucky and the headboard, leaning him back against his chest.

 

It was the most skin-to-skin contact they had in a long, _long_ time.

 

Steve started to massage the area where the skin and metal connected, strong circles of his hand, squeezing and rubbing. Bucky's breathing remained heavy and strained, but the more he did it the easier it came, and soon he was rolling his head against Steve's bare chest and pressing his face into the nape of his neck.

 

“... Helping?” He asked after a few long moments, and Bucky just nodded without opening his eyes. It combined with the painkillers were working wonders.

 

After some hesitation Steve slipped his free arm across Bucky's middle, stopping as soon as he felt his muscles tense, but whatever fear he had was snuffed out as Bucky's hand came up to meet it and slipped over Steve's, interlocking their fingers.

 

Sitting between Steve's legs, leaning against his chest with their skin touching... it was a lot, but it wasn't unwelcome. Bucky was actually shocked at how good it felt despite everything bad happening to his body at the moment. He wished he had felt more relaxed when this happened for the first time after Everything, but life didn't work out that way most of the time. For either of them.

 

Neither were sure how much time passed, both unwilling to turn and glance at the clocks on their phones, but it was enough time that Bucky's breathing had leveled out and Steve had stopped massaging. A calloused thumb ran gently over the back of Bucky's hand. “Feeling better?”

 

“Yeah...” Bucky managed, rubbing the side of his face into Steve's chest and taking a deep breath. Then he turned his head to look up at him, their faces so close together. The dim light of the room made Steve's hair shine, his ridiculous eyelashes casting shadows over his cheeks.

 

He was so gorgeous Bucky wanted to smack him, especially considering he was a pasty, sweaty mess right now by comparison with sunken eyes and an entire limb missing, which most of the time he tried very hard not to think about.

 

But... fuck. He was allowed to be a little selfish, right? He had to keep reminding himself that Steve was a grown man, that they had this conversation already, that Steve had _chose_ him of his own free will and he needed to respect that.

 

So he was respecting Steve's wishes when he unlocked their fingers together and reached up to pull Steve's head down the rest of the way and let their lips meet.

 

They had kissed before, but they had been small. Chaste and quick as goodbyes and hellos.

 

This was not chaste.

 

Steve was hesitant at first, not wanting to push too hard too fast, so he let Bucky set the pace.

 

Their lips met, then again. Bucky's fingers ran through Steve's hair. It was getting long. He liked it. Kissing him like this with a full beard was new too, but he didn't hate it. Not at all.

 

Bucky pressed his tongue against Steve's lips to encourage him to open up a little more and he did so eagerly. They explored each others mouths, Steve still tasting like toothpaste from when he brushed before bed and Bucky's lips like sweat. Neither of them communicated either of these things, but both of them enjoyed it all the same despite the wild differences.

 

Steve's hands explored his body, running along the edge of his pajama pants and up his sides. Bucky was so much more toned than he remembered, and while it was undoubtedly attractive it still came with the cost of knowing what had been done to him to achieve it. Occasionally Steve would find a scar from a bullet or a knife and trace over it slowly. The serum in him wasn't as strong, and half of his scars were probably from getting injured during missions and then simply not being given proper medical care.

 

They kissed until they were breathing heavily through their noses. Until Bucky felt Steve growing a little hard against the small of his back.

 

Before it got too heavy for his comfort, Bucky pulled away and caught his breath. A sly smile spread across his face. “Down, boy.”

 

Steve's cheeks were as bright and pink as his lips as he laughed nervously. “Sorry.”

 

But Bucky just smiled and leaned his head against the nape of Steve's neck again, letting silence stretch between them.

 

“... Thanks, Stevie.”

 

Steve just smiled and leaned his face into Bucky's messy hair, closing his eyes. “Always, Buck.”

 

…

 

That morning Steve had to leave again, but not before they had another intense make-out session as a goodbye.

 

Once the warm and fuzzy feeling wore off and Bucky realized he was alone with his thoughts again, which only took a few hours, he found himself standing in the mirror after a shower to wash off all the sweat from the night before.

 

His fingers traced along the line of metal that met skin.

 

_He was on a cold table, drifting in and out of consciousness. Every part of him was cold, but pain radiated out from his left arm. When he looked at it it was just a bloody stump._

 

_He blinked and it wasn't bleeding anymore, but wires ran out of it like snakes. He screamed and clawed at the stitches, at the metal, but every time he blinked there was less skin and more machine. Bucky caught his own reflection in the plates and he didn't know who was staring back at him. He didn't know himself. He didn't know his name._

 

Bucky blinked hard and sucked in a breath, leaning over the bathroom sink and gagging. He turned on the tap and splashed himself with water. Hot, not cold. Cold always just made the flashbacks and images worse.

 

After catching his breath he looked at himself in the mirror and stared, doing something he hadn't done in a long time.

 

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes. My name is James Buchanan Barnes. My name is Bucky. My name is Bucky. My name is Bucky.”

 

He closed his eyes tightly, knowing that he did this during the beginning of his brainwashing. It had helped hold on during the first few years until the last shreds of himself had finally crumbled away. When he opened his eyes again he took another deep breath and mumbled to himself; “The words don't work anymore. I'm okay. Everything's okay.”

 

Bucky wiped off his face and finally started to pull on his clothes.

 

The following day he went down into Shuri's lab like he often did, but this time it was for a specific purpose. He waited until she seemed to be finishing up with something before he spoke up. “Princess Shuri?”

 

Shuri just scoffed, “For the last time just Shuri, that whole princess thing is _weird_ coming from you. We're friends by now, right?” She gave him a beaming smile and the gentlest of nudges on his flesh arm and he couldn't help but smile.

 

“Shuri,” he began again, “I, uh...” He hesitated and after giving him a moment but getting nothing, Shuri eyeballed him.

 

“Well? Spit it out.”

 

Bucky couldn't stop himself from smiling even more. Shuri was so forthcoming it was hard not to love her. Still it was hard to ask for help, especially with everything they had done for him already. “I have...” he took a breath, “I have phantom pains. I was wondering if there was anything you could do about that, or... maybe... remove everything they put in my arm.”

 

To his shock Shuri lit up like a christmas tree.

 

“I thought you would never ask!” She said before quickly turning and walking away to pull out a long briefcase. She set it down at a table and popped it open, and there sat a whole new vibranium arm fit snugly among foam.

 

“I only have a few more bugs to work out but you wouldn't believe how much I learned working on your new arm.” Shuri said, then started to go into all the details and machinations, stopping only once she saw how pale(r) Bucky had gotten and how his eyes had sort of glazed over.

 

“Too much?” She winced, and he blinked hard before nodding numbly.

 

“Yeah... sorry... I don't know if I'm ready for a replacement, but I just kind of would like what they put in me... _out_ of me, y'know? Even if you end up replacing some bits and pieces. I'd rather have your tech inside me than theirs.” He tried to smile, but it fell flat. Even so Shuri just smiled.

 

“Of course. Lets get your arm scanned and then go from there, hm?”

 

…

 

It was nerve wracking being on the table again, even if this one was comfortable and warm and safe inside Shuri's lab. The figured out everything she would need to replace and began working on it, and in the meantime Bucky had plenty of time to kill. He had told Shuri from the start that he didn't want to go under without Steve nearby, so the sooner he knew the better.

 

Calling him on mission was always a little difficult, but they managed to both get some time to themselves eventually where Bucky could fill him in on everything that Shuri planned to do with his arm and what she was replacing, and that he wouldn't go through with it until Steve had some free time.

 

It wasn't like he was in a rush, but it felt like before he knew it Steve was right there and Shuri had everything ready and Bucky was lying on the table squeezing Steve's hand so hard he knew it had to hurt.

 

“I'll be right here, Buck. I won't go anywhere.”

 

Bucky could only nod as the mask was placed over his mouth and nose and Shuri told him to count backwards.

 

He only managed to get to five before the world went dark.

 

…

 

He was drowsy and sluggish when he woke up, but Steve was there. It was the first word out of Bucky's mouth, lazy and drunk.

 

“Stevie...”

 

“Right here.” Steve smiled down over him, squeezing his hand. “Everything went great. We're just gonna have you wake up a bit more and then get you to your room, okay?”

 

Bucky just mumbled and turned to look at his other arm, or where it should have been. The shiny metal had been replaced with dark vibranium, the joints flecked with gold.

 

“You shouldn't have phantom pain anymore, I went in and made sure all your nerve endings were in order.” Shuri grinned and Bucky smiled right back at her.

 

“Thanks...”

 

His eyelids felt heavy but he did his best to stay awake, turning to look up at Steve. He wanted to kiss him, but even in his drugged mind the fear of doing it in the public had never left either of them. Steve seemed to get the message though, and laid a big hand over his forehead before combing back through his hair.

 

“I'm here.” He said, and his voice was so soothing that Bucky nearly fell back asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding another chapter to this is my own personal fuck you to endgame.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a breakdown, but soon rediscovers his sass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't noticed this chapter has bumped the rating up to mature! Not really explicit phone sex happens, as well as mild descriptions of past sexytimes.

After the operation Steve thankfully had a few more days free to stay with him. Bucky healed quick enough, and they went back to their now shared bedroom to spend the few remaining days together. Once his drug-induced haze wore off things returned pretty much back to normal. They got some takeout and watched more episodes of a series they were currently bingeing, and before too long it was getting late and Bucky was ready for bed. It had been a long day for him especially.

 

They took turns taking a shower, Bucky first, and once he was finished Steve stepped right in after him. It took him a little effort to get himself to dry off his hair, which was starting to get pretty scraggly, but he did finally manage it and then brushed it out. Steve being around really did help him care more about his appearance at least. He used the towel to wipe off the condensation from the mirror to stare at his reflection.

 

Sunken eyes.

 

A full beard.

 

Long strands of dark hair framing his pale face.

 

He had a hard time remembering what he used to look like suddenly, but he knew it wasn't this.

 

Bucky's gray eyes moved down to his arm, or rather the lack thereof. The line were the new vibranium connected to his skin was much more flush than before, if not still scarred and a little red and inflamed. He touched it and then turned to look at the rounded area where his new arm, should he ever want it, would be attached once the cap was removed that covered the ports that connected to his nerves. It was so light, he suddenly realized. There wasn't the need to slouch a little to his left anymore.

 

His gaze turned back forward and he stared at himself, unable to recognize the man looking back at him.

 

It wasn't James Buchanan Barnes.

 

_He_ wasn't James Buchanan Barnes.

 

James wouldn't hurt people. Wouldn't kill people. He was just something else with memories belonging to someone else. He remembered all those years of being told he was a thing, not having any wants or desires or autonomy, and suddenly he felt like maybe that had been right. Maybe he didn't _deserve_ to have them.

 

He didn't deserve any of the good things in his life.

 

He didn't deserve anything.

 

He had killed so many people.

 

He should die.

 

He should die.

 

He should die.

 

A horrible, strangled sound left his throat as he gripped the edge of the sink and started to sob so hard it felt like he was going to vomit. All he could do was stare down into the white porcelain of the sink and choke out garbled noises with wide eyes and tears streaming down his face.

 

Bucky somehow didn't notice that the shower had quickly stopped and there were strong, warm hands on his shoulders turning him around. Something was being said but it sounded like it was under water.

 

… _uck...y..._

 

_buck..._

 

_bucky..._

 

“Bucky!”

 

Gray eyes slowly moved upwards to look at Steve's face through tears, his sandy hair dripping with water and droplets on his eyelashes. “Bucky... hey...”

 

Calloused fingers framed his face and started to wipe at the tears on his cheeks. Bucky didn't react to it, just stared ahead right above Steve's shoulders, unfocused.

 

“Buck... it's okay.”

 

“No.” Bucky managed to croak out, and that alone made the tears start again. He leaned back on the bathroom sink and curled forward, arm tucking against his chest as sobs wracked his body. “I should die.”

 

“No. No, no, no.” Steve mumbled, and his wet arms were wrapping around Bucky to hold him close and let him cry into his chest.

 

“Yes,” Bucky said, voice muffled. “I'm a killer. I've killed so-- so many people. I don't deserve to be alive.”

 

Steve was shushing him and rocking him slowly now, petting his hair. “You wouldn't have killed them if you had a choice.”

 

Bucky didn't respond to that. He just cried for awhile longer before his misery looped back in on itself. “I wanna die...”

 

Now it was Steve's turn to stay quiet. His arms shook and he took a deep, steadying breath while looking at the ceiling and blinking out a few tears. Finally he cleared his throat and started to rub up and down Bucky's back. “I'd be mighty sad if you did, Buck. I--”

 

He had to stop and take another breath to steady his voice. “I lost you once already. I don't know if I can deal with that again.”

 

There was a long stretch of silence after that, and Bucky's crying started to get a little more under control. He sniffed and lifted his head a little, but still didn't look at Steve. “Sorry... I'm sorry...”

 

“It's okay.” Steve said quietly, pulling back a little to give Bucky some room to breathe.

 

“I dunno where that came from.” He mumbled, his crying finally under control and now the only feeling left was absolute exhaustion. Steve was wiping his face still and Bucky looked down, seeing that Steve was still a little damp and wearing nothing but a towel. “... You got the floor wet,” he commented dryly.

 

Steve looked down and couldn't help but smile now that it felt like things had cooled off. “Yeah, sorry about that. I'll clean it up. Lets get you into bed first, okay?”

 

Bucky didn't say anything as Steve lead him into the bedroom and pulled down the blankets to get him into bed, but as he pulled away Bucky grabbed at his arm and didn't want to let go. He smiled at him and leaned closer to kiss his forehead. When Bucky turned his face up he kissed his lips too.

 

“I just need to get dressed and I'll be right back,” Steve said. He only pulled away once Bucky let go, and did just that. He quickly pulled on a pair of underwear and threw a towel over the wet spot in the bathroom before shutting off the light and getting into bed beside Bucky, who instantly curled up against his side.

 

… It would have been nice if things had ended there, but breakdowns were rarely that tidy. Bucky cried off and on throughout the night with Steve waking up to comfort him. The following day was only marginally better, and it was the last day before Steve had to leave again. Most of it was spent curled up in bed on their phones and laptops, Bucky mostly just trying to distract himself from his misery and the fact that tomorrow he would be alone again.

 

Despite their parting ways, Bucky felt a little more like his old self by the time Steve had to leave. They stood in the doorway, hugging each other tightly, lips connecting again and again in small kisses as they fought for every little ounce of time together they could have.

 

“You'll be okay?”

 

“Yeah Stevie, I'll be fine.” Bucky said, arm slung over Steve's shoulder and staring into the deep blue's of his eyes.

 

“Promise you won't go anywhere?” Steve asked, his own way of asking Bucky to _stay alive while I'm gone_ without being so explicit as to say 'please don't kill yourself'.

 

“Promise.” Bucky said, accentuating his statement with another kiss. This one lingered a moment longer before Steve sighed and pulled away. Their hands locked together, squeezed, and then slowly parted.

 

Leaving his room was always the hardest. No one knew the depths of their relationship and despite how safe the current day was for them, the old fear was hard to break.

 

They both sighed and took a breath before leaving the building together, not so much as holding hands. And when they got to the quinjet Steve paused to smile at Bucky and give him a tight hug, nothing more than would look friendly, before boarding.

 

The following days were a rough climb out of his downswing without Steve, but Bucky had managed it before and could manage it again. He took his medication and saw his therapist and got his check-ups just like he always did. Doing those few things was enough for him to feel like he was getting somewhere rather than staying stagnate, and that's really all he could ask for.

 

Progress. Even if it was slow.

 

It was the middle of the third day when Bucky got a call, and it could really only be from Steve. He had been having a good day and was in the middle of putting on clean bed sheets when he answered after only two rings.

 

“Hey Stevie.” He said, trying to convey the smile in his voice.

 

“Hey Buck. Everything been alright?” Came the deep baritone from the other end, and Bucky couldn't help but smile. He stopped what he was doing and spun around to flop back onto the half-made bed.

 

“Yeah. Getting there. What about you?”

 

“Ah, well--” Steve began, which told Bucky that things had been _annoying_ but not necessarily _okay_ with whatever he was doing. He launched into details of the current operation they were on, a terrorist organization that might have ties to Hydra, how things had gone about textbook save for a few small snags, but no one was hurt which was the important thing. Bucky stayed mostly silent save for a few 'mmms' and 'aaas' were appropriate, and after what felt like 15 minutes but was probably more like 30, the conversation petered out.

 

“... So what're you up to?” Steve asked after a few long beats of silence.

 

“Was making the bed. Now just lying here.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky said before pausing. “It's nice to hear your voice.”

 

“Yours too...” Steve said, and they fell into another companionable silence.

 

It was another few minutes before Bucky noticed that Steve was breathing a little heavier on the other end. His eyes went wide and he sat up, thinking the worst. “Stevie?”

 

Steve's breathing stopped abruptly and he almost sounded like he choked a little out of surprise. “Wh-yeah?”

 

“You okay? You were breathing heavy.” Bucky asked, concern on every word. There was a stretch of awkward silence on the other end.

 

“I-... yeah, Buck. I was, uh...”

 

Steve didn't finish his sentence, but Bucky could hear the embarrassment. Suddenly he knew exactly what was going on. Despite himself he grinned slyly for the first time in awhile. “You thinkin' about me, Rogers?”

 

“... Yeah,” Steve said with no shortage of embarrassment still on his voice.

 

“Hm,” Bucky hummed and let himself flop back down onto the bed. When there was silence through the speakers for a little too long he said, “Well I didn't tell you to stop, did I?”

 

A breathy laugh followed and the heavier breathing picked up again. “Bossy.”

 

“Not as much as you, pal.” Bucky grinned, and for a moment considered putting Steve on speaker so he could touch himself too, but as soon as the thought entered his mind he felt his stomach lurch and quickly decided that would be a poor idea. So instead he closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the noises that Steve was making on the other end.

 

“Got yourself some alone time, huh?”

 

“Yeah...” Steve breathed.

 

“What're you thinking about?” Bucky asked, and he could hear Steve swallow before answering.

 

“Kissing you.”

 

The smile that spread on Bucky's face was so wide it hurt. “Yeah? I think you might be thinkin' about more than just kissing me.”

 

Steve huffed, “You got me.”

 

Another moment passed, but when Steve didn't answer Bucky pulled his legs up and rolled onto his side. “Well? Don't leave me hanging.”

 

Steve groaned in feign annoyance but it quickly turned into a moan that he bit down so he could answer. “Thinkin' about that time in France. When we found that abandoned truck.”

 

“Tires blown clean off it,” Bucky finished for him. “But the cabin was still intact.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve breathed. “It was raining so hard. Used it for cover. You snuck in when it was my turn on watch.”

 

“Hey,” Bucky grinned, “I figured it was rainin' so hard no one would hear us. Or notice how much we rocked the damn thing.”

 

Steve laughed and it ended with another quiet moan.

 

“I bet we broke the damn axles if they weren't already,” Bucky continued. “I couldn't get enough of your new super dick.”

 

Steve laughed again, “Bucky. _Bucky_ you are not helping right now.”

 

“No? What, do I have to tell you how much I liked it? How often I thought about it? Not that I didn't love it before of course, but _damn_ Stevie.”

 

He could hear Steve's breath start to hitch at the compliments, and something possessed him that he hadn't felt in a long, long time. He wanted to tease, and he knew just how to do it in a way that would satisfy the both of them, even if he knew Steve would be annoyed at him afterwards.

 

“You remember what I said when we came?” Bucky asked, but didn't wait for a response before he turned his voice breathy and seductive, like he had just been touching himself, like they had both been doing the same thing all this time even though he barely had any erection at all throughout this whole ordeal.

 

“ _ **God**_ _bless America._ ” Bucky moaned.

 

“Fff-fuck--” Steve cursed as he came on the other end of the line, panting and breathing and taking a moment to enjoy his high before he came down. And when he did-- “I can't believe you made me come to that.”

 

Bucky found himself laughing, hair draped over his face and nose pressed into the half-made sheets of his bed. “You're just so _easy_ , Rogers.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve grumbled, but Bucky could hear just how much he was smiling on the other end. There was shifting, like he was cleaning himself up, and Bucky rolled back over onto his back and blew hair out of his face. After a few moments where they sat in silence again Steve's guilt must have gotten the better of him.

 

“That wasn't... uncomfortable to you, was it?”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes even though Steve couldn't see it. “Steven Grant Rogers--”

 

“Okay, okay, sorry. I just... wanted to be sure.” He said before Bucky could finish.

 

…

 

“It's easier when I can't see it, I think. At least right now. I still don't think I'm ready to touch _myself_ or anything like that, but... if that changes trust me you'll be the first to know.”

 

Being an object for so long had really messed up his sense of self. It was strange to think that he felt more comfortable with the idea of touching Steve first over touching _himself_ , but he supposed recovery was weird like that. Maybe it was the large part of him that still felt like he wasn't deserving of it, or maybe it was something else. He didn't know. He just had to go with whatever felt right at any given moment.

 

“Okay,” Steve said and took a breath. “... I should probably go. I'll call you when things change.”

 

“Okay.” Bucky said even though something heavy felt dropped on his chest.

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

They hadn't said that very often before the freezes, but now they said it almost as often as they could. They both knew just how quickly their lives could end or circumstances could change, so they had to get it out whenever they could or risk ending their lives on a moment where they didn't.

 

The call ended and even though Bucky felt the deep weight on his chest without Steve talking into his ear, he also felt... satisfied.

 

Intensely satisfied.

 

He smiled and rolled over in his half-made bed, scrolling through his phone at all the pictures he and Steve had taken of each other during his visits. Making his bed could wait.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for sticking with me through this story so far everyone, your feedback is what's keeping me going. That said I'm struggling a little with some emotional bonding filler to get towards the end I want, so if you have any ideas on what you'd like to see these two do/work through together please let me know either on my pillowfort (same name) or I now have a twitter (@rattlemeoldbone)! I'll be posting updates there too, so follow if you want to keep more updated with my content and don't have a pillowfort. Also this chapter has officially bumped the rating to explicit.

A few more days pass before they see each other again, and their routine resumes with a couple of days of togetherness followed by longer apart. That's just how it is though, and Bucky is okay with that. He knows he can't follow Steve into the fight as he is now, and he's honestly not sure if he ever wants to.

 

Well, maybe _wants_ is a strong word.

 

A part of him does want to follow Steve into the fray, but it's all purely for selfish reasons. He wants to watch his back like he did in the war. He wants to make sure he's okay. He wants to make sure Steve isn't making dumb decisions or being reckless like he knows he is.

 

Bucky hoped the fact that he has him to come home to keeps him a little more in line and less _suicidal_ in his actions.

 

Despite how apart they are physically, they still keep in touch often when they can. Steve usually calls him to let him know he has to go silent and for about how long, but typically the longest they're ever apart is two weeks or so.

 

It's bearable.

 

That's why, when it's two weeks in and there's no end in sight, that both of them start to get antsy. The last call Bucky gets is Steve warning him that things were a lot bigger and more complicated than they originally thought, and he will be going dark for at least another week.

 

Neither of them are happy about it, but Bucky chokes out an 'okay' and tries to keep it together for both of their sakes.

 

A week passes after two weeks of already being separated.

 

Then another.

 

By the end of the fourth week Bucky is tempted to turn on the news, something he never does, _just_ to see if something major has happened and Captain America has been declared dead, and as soon as his mind even humors the idea that Steve might be gone for good it never lets go.

 

Somehow, just as his mind grabs that thought and sprints to the finish line with it, the universe seems to take pity on him and his phone rings. Bucky _sprints_ across his room, vaults over the couch, and grabs his phone sitting on the coffee table.

 

“Steve?”

 

“Buck--” Steve sighs on the other end. “I'm okay.”

 

“Fuck.” Bucky breathes out and collapses backwards onto the couch.

 

“I'm sorry it took so long to call you. I know you don't watch the news, but... things got a little complicated. But I'm okay. Just finished up. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

 

“How long.” Bucky demands, and doesn't even feel bad about how terse his tone is.

 

“Tomorrow.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“Promise.” Steve says, and the smile can be heard in his voice.

 

The call ends shortly after that, both of them just wanting to move things forward quickly so they can finally see each other after a very long month of waiting. Bucky paces his room and bites at the skin around his fingernails before finally deciding to clean his room in preparation and just to kill some time.

 

Everything is scrubbed from top to bottom, and when he's finished that he decides to do the same to himself. He takes a much needed shower, washes his hair thoroughly and brushes it before trimming his beard a little. By the time he's run out of things to do it's nighttime at least, but that still leaves hours and hours before Steve will arrive. He sits on the couch and turns on the TV to something mindless to stare at. There's some sort of British baking show he had taken to watching recently that helps kill time so he turns that on and just... tries to zone out.

 

It's hard. He doesn't really sleep so much as doze when his mind wanders enough from the idea that Steve will be within arms reach soon. As soon as the sun rises and peeks through the blinds on his windows all hope for rest goes right out the window, and Bucky sits up to stare out of them like a deer caught in headlights.

 

He barely notices the pain in his stomach and realizes suddenly he didn't have dinner the day before, so he gets up to try and force himself to eat despite how much he doesn't want to.

 

His phone dings on his way to the kitchen and he looks down at the tiny screen.

 

_Eta one hour_

_you gonna meet me at the pad?_

 

Bucky stares at the text before sending one back.

 

_Dont think I should_

 

Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't. They had their own code of conduct how that worked out now, and typically when Bucky wasn't sure if he could contain himself in front of other people he would stay in his room and let Steve come to him so they could have some privacy.

 

This was definitely one of those times when he didn't think he could keep his hands (or mouth) to himself when he saw Steve.

 

 _Ok see you soon_ , was all Steve texted back.

 

Bucky set his phone down and sat on one of the stools in the kitchen, chewing on his lower lip and staring into the middle distance before his mind yelled at him that he was supposed to be making himself eat.

 

So he got up and did that. It would kill time.

 

… It was hard to eat when his stomach was doing jumping jacks.

 

Once he was finished and washed the dishes his phone beeped again and Bucky scrambled a lot less this time for it to read: _on my way up_ on the screen.

 

The phone was very carefully set down again and Bucky didn't dare move from his spot until he heard the door click open, then gently close. Once that click hit his ears he rounded the corner of the kitchen and headed straight for the door. He must have looked like he was going to murder Steve because his eyes got a little wide as he dropped his bag, staring at his face--

 

Bucky grabbed both sides of it and crashed their lips together so hard Steve stumbled back against the door in surprise.

 

Large hands reached up and started to card through his hair as he returned the kiss with fervor, both of them breathing heavily through their noses as they pressed their bodies into one another and kissed until they were both out of breath. Bucky was the first to pull away, eyes tracing every sharp angle of Steve's face to study it and make sure nothing was amiss despite the fact he knew any injury he would have gotten in the past month would have been healed by now.

 

“I fuckin' missed you.” He finally said and Steve couldn't stop himself from letting out a breathy laugh, his thumbs rubbing Bucky's cheeks.

 

“I missed you too.”

 

They kissed again, this time much shorter, and when Steve pulled away it was only so they could hug one another better, tighter. Their arms squeezed so hard it hurt, but neither seemed to care, rocking each other gently back and forth. They stayed like that for what was probably a few long minutes but still felt like not long enough.

 

“And you're okay?” Bucky asked as he pulled away, finding Steve's hand to hold it.

 

“I am now that I'm with you.” He grinned, and Bucky couldn't help but roll his eyes, then leaned up to kiss him again, a peck on the lips as his eyes softened. Steve's hands were roaming along his sides but stayed above his clothes and something in Bucky's chest tightened hard.

 

He gripped Steve's hand and stepped away from him, leading them both away from the door and towards the bedroom. The look of surprise on Steve's face went unnoticed at first until they were behind the bedroom door and Bucky was closing it behind them before turning Steve around and pushing him towards the bed.

 

“Buck-” Steve began, but was cut off as he was shoved backwards with a soft thump against the mattress. “Are you-”

 

Bucky shushed him as he straddled over his lap, hand pressed against Steve's chest. “I know what I'm doing, Rogers. It's okay. I've thought about this a lot.”

 

“Okay,” Steve said before Bucky kissed anymore words from his mouth, hand slipping up underneath the too-tight shirt Steve was wearing and giving it a tug. The hands that were roaming along Bucky's thighs pulled away only to help lift his shirt up over his head and toss it over the side of the bed before they went right back to what they were doing.

 

“Just one thing,” Bucky said as he sat back and pulled his own shirt up over his head in a smooth motion despite lacking one arm. “I'm gonna suck you off, and you can touch me, but stay out of my ass and away from my dick, okay?”

 

Steve looked only slightly disappointed for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Yeah, anything you want Buck.”

 

“Good,” Bucky said before dipping back down to kiss him again. He shifted his pelvis back and forth over Steve's and swallowed the moan Steve made into Bucky's mouth.

 

It felt good. It felt great. But Bucky wasn't sure if he could get hard from it, or if he ever could again. This wasn't about him getting off anyway, this was about making Steve feel good, making him feel loved, and doing something he had wanted to do for weeks now.

 

Strong hands continued to knead and squeeze Bucky's thighs while they ground into each other through their clothes, Steve tilting his hips upward every time Bucky pushed himself downward. He reached down finally to unbutton Steve's pants and yank them down just enough that his swelling cock could get some breathing room before his hand went right back to roaming over Steve's broad chest.

 

Bucky squeezed at his pecs and remembered the first time he had seen them, how much they reminded him of the perky breasts he used to kiss on the girls he took out dancing back when they were still in denial, when he had desperately wanted to be straight and Steve had tried to push him away knowing that being gay could only make their lives so much more difficult, before he had any sense of self-worth.

 

Not that he didn't still struggle with that a _lot_ , Bucky was sure.

 

His mouth finally pulled off Steve's and started to trail downward. He kissed along his jaw and down his neck, sucking on his skin to create bruises that wouldn't even last until they were finished. Steve was breathing and panting heavily above him, and Bucky realized the kissing and that sound alone was enough to get him harder than he had been in a long, long time, even if he still wasn't fully erect.

 

But that was neither here nor there. Bucky didn't want to get himself off this time around.

 

Lips moved further south, kissing Steve's chest and pausing to suck and bite at one of his pink nipples while his hand worked on its twin and Steve let out a hiss between his teeth. His back arched into the feeling, into the jolt of pain mixed with pleasure, and Bucky couldn't help but grin as he worked his tongue over the erect nub before moving to the other and doing the same, then going further down still.

 

He kissed along his abs, feeling his stomach rise and fall rapidly with his breathing until he met the patch of glittering blonde hair right above his dick. Bucky's kisses got slower, agonizingly so, and he started a slow circle of reverent touches of his lips everywhere _but_ the swollen cock right inches from his face.

 

“Buck,” Steve breathed, a hand having found its way into his tousled hair. When Bucky didn't even pause in his slow kisses Steve gripped him a little firmer, but not enough to pull or hurt.

 

“ _Buck._ ”

 

Bucky finally grinned and looked up at him, resting his face beside Steve's cock without so much as touching it. “Yes, Stevie?”

 

“I--” Steve began, but he always got a little embarrassed asking, being needy. That's why Bucky was here though.

 

“Go on,” he said, and his hand finally reached up to grip the base of Steve's dick. Steve made a noise like he had just been punched in the gut.

 

“ _Please_ ,” he begged, “I need you.”

 

Bucky hummed and turned his eyes to Steve's cock, then to the pair of blue eyes watching him through long lashes. He opened his mouth to lick the leaking tip in one slow motion and Steve's legs twitched, toes spreading outward as a strangled noise left his throat. He maintained eye contact as his lips finally closed around Steve's dick and he started to suck and swirl his tongue around in the ways he could recall driving Steve wild.

 

He was glad to see that he hadn't lost his touch, or that Steve's buttons hadn't changed during all these years.

 

Steve threw his head back and started to make so many obscene noises Bucky, for a moment, wanted to pull off and say _'quiet Stevie_ ' in case someone heard, but realized a moment later that... they had privacy. No one could hear them in their room, and if they could... so?

 

And that thought caught him off guard too. Not caring if someone heard. After everything they had been through... did it really matter if anyone knew anymore?

 

Emboldened by this realization Bucky gave it all he had, slowly easing Steve's cock into his mouth the same way he remembered doing before the ice. It took some work getting the whole thing in his mouth and by the halfway point he was making some pretty gross noises himself, but Bucky was determined to take all of it. Whatever wasn't in his mouth he worked with his hand, but-- dammit he was _going_ to fit it. He knew he had before.

 

“Oh my god. Buck. _Fuck_.” Steve moaned above him, arm resting over his eyes even though he was still peeking past it to watch, trying desperately to keep his hips at least a little still as Bucky worked him into his mouth. Bucky made a mumbling noise and it vibrated everything, and Steve had to bite his bottom lip and throw his head back to steel himself from thrusting upward into Bucky's mouth and hurting him.

 

Bucky's eyes were starting to water. After a moment he pulled himself up to catch some breath and jerked Steve off while he did it.

 

“Buck, you don't have to-”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Rogers.” Bucky cut him off, voice ragged and a big smile on his face. “I did it before, I can do it again. S'like riding a bike.”

 

“You never- _uhhhaahh!_ ”

 

Bucky shut Steve up quick as he swallowed him down halfway and then kept on going, gagging himself here and there before getting to the hilt. He swallowed and sucked as much as he could, then pulled back up only to slide back down.

 

The leg that Bucky wasn't bracing himself against propped up as Steve moaned and huffed and squirmed while Bucky went to town. He might not have even owned a bike his entire life, but damn if sucking Steve's dick wasn't like getting right back on one. He knew all the special little ways to drive him nuts; how hard to suck, what to do with his tongue, how fast to bob his head up and down. It didn't take long at all for Steve to grip his hair a little tighter in warning.

 

“Buck. Bucky. I'm--”

 

Bucky hummed around his cock and didn't let up, not until he felt Steve tense and a loud moan left his throat as he came. Bucky pressed his nose against Steve's pelvis and swallowed and swallowed until he could tell Steve was finished, and even then took a moment to regain himself before slowly pulling off with a lewd _pop_.

 

He breathed and licked his lips and swallowed. His hair was a mess, his beard even more so, but damn if he wasn't satisfied as hell watching Steve lay flat on his back, flushed and sated.

 

“Fuck.” Steve said in that same deep baritone, and Bucky gave a hoarse laugh.

 

“Haven't lost my touch I take it.”

 

“God no.” Steve smiled, dopey.

 

Bucky hmmed and pulled himself up so he loomed over Steve, giving him a sloppy, slow kiss that was invasive enough for him to taste himself on Bucky's tongue.

 

“That was worth the 70 year wait.” Steve said and Bucky laughed, because while he knew he was good at sucking dick, he wasn't _that_ good. “But are you sure you don't-”

 

“Nope.” Bucky cut him off, rolling over to get off the bed. “Don't worry about that, Stevie. When I'm ready for that you'll be the first to know.” He smiled back at him, trying to be reassuring. It seemed to work well enough, Steve smiling a little bashfully and looking away.

 

Bucky walked off only for a moment to rinse off his face and gargle some mouthwash, then returned with a washcloth for Steve to wipe himself off, tossing it to him and watching him catch it with barely a glance. Steve wiped himself down as Bucky rolled onto the bed beside him. “... Wanna cuddle?”

 

“Hell yeah,” Steve said enthusiastically, tossing the used cloth to land somewhere off the bed before tucking himself back into his boxers only to tug down his pants. Bucky followed suit, stripping down to his boxers before pulling the blankets up over him and Steve. Both of them mumbled and sighed as they held one another and finally relaxed.

 

They were together. They were both alive. Everything was fine now.

 

They could rest.

 

Both of them dozed for awhile, snuggled tight in each others arms. Occasionally Steve would kiss along the scars of Bucky's missing arm and scratch his beard into the nape of his neck. Bucky mostly shoved himself as tightly back against Steve as he could, rolling over to bury his face under Steve's chin.

 

It was nice. Relaxing.

 

They got up only when Steve's stomach started growling too loudly to ignore and got dinner, eating it on the couch. Bucky finally asked what the mission had been about and Steve gave him a rather abridged version. The way he cut out so much, how his voice got tense and his lips twitched down at the corners without becoming a full frown, Bucky knew things had gone south.

 

“Steve.” Bucky finally said, cutting him off while he relayed a sequence of events like he was giving a briefing. “You don't have to talk about it.”

 

“No, it's--” Steve began, but Bucky cut him off.

 

“No. I know how you look when you don't want to think about something. You don't need to talk about it. All that matters is that you're here now.” He said, looking up at him through the strands of brown hair that fell into his face, still tousled from bed.

 

Steve paused and stared at him for a moment before nodding and eating a little more dinner. “Okay Buck.”

 

Bucky nodded and ate too, and then after a beat Steve smiled a sad sort of smile.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Bucky set down his fork so he could reach over and lay his hand on the back of Steve's. He squeezed it and locked eyes with him.

 

They both know what it felt like for a mission to go bad. You never forgot it.

 

They held hands for a moment and just looked at one another before Bucky finally pulled away so they could continue eating. After that they were both pretty eager to get back to bed.

 

Steve was almost always the big spoon, something that had been a constant since the serum. Bucky knew that even before it Steve had always wanted to hold him and protect him, so it was nice that he could do that now. They fell asleep like that, in a tangle of limbs that would only get better or worse as the night drew on.

 

Both of them still had nightmares, but managing them together helped. Waking up alone only made them panic more, but when you woke up terrified next to someone you loved, it made coming down from the fear that much more bearable.

 

That night it wasn't a nightmare that rocked Bucky from sleep, however. He wasn't sure what woke him up, but he woke up without any part of Steve sprawled over him. Not entirely unusual, he closed his eyes to drift off back to sleep.

 

That was when he heard a sniff.

 

Bucky's eyes were wide open in an instant but he still didn't move, not until he felt Steve shift slightly, like he was curling up tighter. That's when he had all the confirmation he needed.

 

“Steve?” He asked, turning his head to look over his shoulder at the large mound beside him. Steve was curled into a tight ball, pillow pulled down and hugged in his massive arms with his face pressed into it. His body shifted in a motion that was supposed to be subtle, head wiping at his pillow. He tried to clear his throat as quietly as he could too, but there really was no hiding that he had been crying.

 

“I'm fine,” he said stubbornly, and again that was all Bucky needed to roll over and scoot his whole body to press up against Steve's back. He didn't have an arm to sling over him anymore while still keeping himself propped up, so instead he bent his front half over Steve's shoulder so his front was looming over him, dark hair framing his face and creating a tunnel where only they existed together.

 

The thought occurred to him that when this sort of thing would happen before the ice he would have said something like _'aw c'mon, stevie tell me what's wrong'_ before having to goad him along until he got answers, but these days he found that he actually didn't have anything to say. It was like his throat locked up and he just gave Steve a calm, understanding look.

 

That seemed to be all Steve needed these days. His eyes looked up at Bucky, then away before he let out a heavy sigh and reached up to wipe his eyes. “The mission,” he began, but his voice died away and he needed another few moments of looking anywhere but at Bucky's face to speak again. “It's... it's selfish...”

 

At that Bucky blew out a breath and leaned his head down so his forehead rested on Steve's neck, hair a pool around them both and falling partially into Steve's face. “Pal, you're about the most selfless person I know. Whatever it is-”

 

“I'm not selfless when it comes to you.” Steve said abruptly, and that made Bucky's eyes go wide as he lifted his head again. When he looked at Steve their eyes were locked together.

 

A hand lifted up to brush along Bucky's cheek and tuck some of his unruly hair behind one of his ears. The more he looked at him the more his mouth drew into a line and Bucky knew he was trying not to cry. Crying had never been something 'men' did, and it was a bad habit Steve had kept all these decades. Bucky often thought that choosing _not_ to cry was one of the few things Steve felt he had control over back when his body was frail and wracked with sickness, and now it was just so ingrained in him it was hard to change.

 

Steve eventually sighed and dropped his hand again before rolling over onto his back to better face Bucky. His hands folded tightly across his chest like he was about to make a prayer or confession, and the amusing thought of _'I do look a little like a hobo Jesus'_ flashed through Bucky's mind before he blinked it away. Steve was taking another breath now, preparing himself, and Bucky stayed still and silent with his body pressed against his side to show he was there for him.

 

“One of the HYDRA agents...” Steve began, and needed to take another breath. Bucky took the opportunity to wipe the drying tears from Steve's cheeks. “We were doing a last sweep. Finding survivors, taking prisoners, you know.”

 

Bucky nodded wordlessly.

 

“And- and I came across a body laying face down. A man. Long brown hair.” He said, but didn't go beyond that. Steve just looked up at him and his mouth knitted into a line again.

 

“... Thought it was me?” Bucky asked, his voice barely over a whisper.

 

“... Yeah,” Steve managed and his voice cracked a little. One of his hands raised to hide his eyes and his mouth wobbled at the corners. “Just- I thought about what if things hadn't happened the way they had, you coming after me, and we ended up busting somewhere with you in it and I rolled the guy over and it was _you_.”

 

Steve bit his bottom lip but a sob still choked out, and Bucky shushed him quietly before lying his body over Steve's chest to better look at him, hand stroking through his hair.

 

“First of all, you wouldn't have managed to kill me.” He said, and smiled when that got a bark of a laugh out of Steve even if he didn't move his hand from his eyes. “Second of all, you _didn't_ and things _didn't_ happen that way. I'm here right now, getting better, and you're here with me, and we're alive.” At that he reached up to peel Steve's hand away and interlock their fingers, pushing his hand over Steve's head while leaning up in order to loom over him again. “Alright? You see me?”

 

Steve sniffed again. “Yeah. I see you.”

 

“Good.” Bucky leaned down to kiss him soft and sweet.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky fights with regaining his autonomy, moves out of the palace, and remembers a special moment with Steve after Azzano.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter feels... rushed? Slapped together? It was a lot of general world-building and getting Bucky moving forward without a lot of one-on-one dialogue and action which is what I enjoy writing. This was really just a transition chapter to get to more of what I wanted to happen. Probably only one or two more chapters left! Thanks for sticking with me through it all. :) Your comments are what keep me going.

“So I've got some exciting news.” Bucky told Steve during one of his visits. He was sat on the floor with Steve above him, his head leaning back while a brush was gently ran through his hair even though the tangles had come out ages ago.

 

“Oh yeah?” Steve asked, setting the brush aside so he could run his hands through Bucky's hair instead. Even though his fingernails were cut down to nothing his fingers scratching along his scalp was a special kind of heaven.

 

Bucky made sure he knew just how enjoyable it was by leaning his head back and letting a low mumble reverberate in his throat. “You keep that up and I'm going to fall asleep before I can tell ya.”

 

“You want me to stop then?” Steve asked, amused, and Bucky was quick to say, “Hell no.” That earned an amused chuckle.

 

“They think it's safe now for me to move out and start reintegration.” Bucky said, and the pause in Steve's motions caused a spike of worry to shoot up through his gut. Before any intrusive thoughts could invade his head the motions picked up again and when Steve spoke, he could tell there was a smile on his face.

 

“That's great, Buck. Did they tell you how far you're going? Or where?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, closing his eyes and resting his head against Steve's thighs. The fingers in his hair didn't stop even though most of his head was blocked now, instead moving forward to caress the long strands off Bucky's forehead and spreading his hair outward like a halo. “It's not too far outside the city. Close enough that Shuri can still visit and I can go to my therapy, but nothing too crowded. I'll get my own little hut and live with some of the elders who've volunteered to help me out.”

 

Steve's fingers stopped again. “Wait, _hut_?”

 

“Uh, yeah?” Bucky opened his eyes and met Steve's. “It's like a tiny little communal village, a little closer to traditional housing but with all the modern amenities.”

 

When Steve didn't look convinced he sat up a bit more and turned to look at him. “You didn't think it would be like... an apartment, did you? This isn't Brooklyn.”

 

Steve looked a little sheepish. “Maybe?”

 

Bucky just rolled his eyes and reached up to grab Steve's hand and squeeze. “I'm not ready for urban living again, pal. Not yet.” He tried to smile, “Maybe someday.”

 

Steve did his best to smile back, but Bucky could tell it was a little tense. To try and hide it Steve closed the distance downward and kissed him softly. Bucky didn't blame him though. This was a big step, but it was one he was eager to take now that he was doing so much better mentally. Now that his brain was a little more stable and his days were more consistent.

 

Unfortunately they didn't have much more time together than that. Steve had just dropped by between missions and was off again after dinner. They hadn't even been allowed a single night this time around.

 

It was frustrating sometimes, loving Steve. Bucky knew who he was, had since they were little kids, but damn did he just wish the world would _chill the hell out_ sometimes so he could spend more time with the guy he loved.

 

Bucky cleaned up dinner and took a shower, but that was about all the energy he had to do before it ran out and he collapsed on the bed that was much too big for a single person and stared up at the ceiling generally feeling miserable and lonely without Steve to fall in beside him and throw one big arm over his chest.

 

He closed his eyes and tried to stave off some of the more depressing feelings by thinking of what they would do next time they were together.

 

They would kiss. Bucky would bite Steve's lower lip just so he could hear that little grunt/moan Steve always let out when he did it. Maybe he'd feel up his pecs. Steve definitely had an amazing chest. He should really take advantage of it when he had access to it next time.

 

The more Bucky thought the more heated his thoughts became, and after awhile he opened his eyes again to stare at the ceiling and breathe.

 

Maybe.

 

Maybe...

 

Bucky took a deep breath and closed his eyes again, taking himself back to the fantasy. He started to rub over his chest and stomach, feeling himself up and down and pretending that it was Steve's hand and not his own. He moved it lower and lower until he was splaying his fingers around his cock, feeling his balls and then moving up again to grip himself. He was just beginning to work his hand up and down when a horrible memory resurfaced.

 

Tubes being shoved inside him.

 

His hand couldn't have flung off his dick fast enough and he scrambled to his feet, needing to feel the weight of himself on his legs even as they felt weak and unsteady. He grasped for the nearest thing to prop himself up against and tried to catch his breath. Suddenly he was sweating and his heart was beating a mile a minute, the feeling of everything and what had happened to him like he had just woken up from it; like the bed had been a cold steel table he was strapped against.

 

God. They hadn't even let him _piss_ on his own. They hadn't let him have _any_ autonomy of himself.

 

He felt sick to his stomach.

 

Bucky power-walked to the bathroom quickly and pulled back his hair as he dry wretched over the toilet. He hovered over it for awhile, gagging and spitting until standing up and staring at himself in the mirror.

 

He hadn't even realized he'd been crying.

 

Bucky reached out to turn on the sink and started to wipe at his face, sniffling and getting himself a little more presentable. Steve was still in the air and out of reach of even a phone call, and even if he wasn't Bucky wasn't sure if he would even be able to formulate words or tell him what he had just remembered. That wasn't something he wanted to put on Steve. He could talk about this with his therapist next time he saw them.

 

When the tears had stopped Bucky was frozen in front of the sink for a few minutes, the water still running, his mind buzzing and his legs tingling. He didn't want to be alone but he had to move. He had to do something. Blinking hard he realized the water was on and turned it off, then head back to the bedroom to pull out some workout clothes.

 

“Get it together, Barnes.” He whispered to himself while tugging on his clothes. “The triggers are gone. You can shit and piss on your own time now. You can eat on your own time now. Sleep. Go for a run. Everything is fine.”

 

_God I miss Steve._

 

The thought came so quickly and naturally Bucky almost doubled over with the pain of it. He had to stop what he was doing and lean against the dresser, face pressed into his arm while he took deep, heavy breaths. More time was lost like that as he tried to regain himself and keep moving, because at this point he _had_ to move just to prove to himself that he could; that he wasn't strapped down to some table while they prepped him for a mission.

 

Once he was able to raise his head again Bucky cleared his throat and grabbed at the small device Shuri had given him with a bunch of music on it to help keep his head clear. He wiped his eyes with the back of his arm and headed towards the gym. Afterwards, depending on how he felt, he would probably end up in Shuri's lab if she was still awake just to sit and watch her.

 

Anything to pass the time that wasn't just letting his own thoughts control him.

 

The run helped a lot to help clear his head. He still felt pretty awful as far as his usual was concerned, but he felt well enough to shower and then walk down to Shuri's lab and spend some time with her. It proved to be just what she had wanted too. As soon as he stepped in she was all smiles and eager to talk to him about the upcoming move they had planned.

 

Even though Shuri didn't do much in the way of his recovery anymore (all the work fixing his mind of the triggers and making sure he was stable was finished by now), she still seemed to enjoy his company. Maybe it was because he smiled or chuckled at her jokes, or she could show him all the amazing things the modern world had to offer. Like 'memes', which he had gathered was what people called 'inside jokes' these days.

 

Apparently things were progressing for him far faster than either of them had anticipated, and only a few days later Bucky was getting ready to move to his new home; a halfway house of sorts where a small group of elders and their families could help him integrate into their way of life.

 

Before they were to leave he was given a few new changes of clothes, all of them more traditional than the hoodies and sweatpants he normally wore. He picked one out to wear for his first impression before realizing that he had a desire to look presentable for _someone other than Steve._ He spent a lot of time in the bathroom trimming up his beard and brushing his hair, even going so far as to pull the top back and tie it into a small bun after quite a few tries to get it to look nice. He had never really messed with his hair that much when it was long, and learning to do it now with only one hand wasn't helping matters, but he did manage to look... pretty good, he thought, all things considered.

 

When he decided he looked about as good as he was going to, Bucky went back to packing the few belongings he did own; mostly just clothing or books he was given. While digging around he saw something peeking out from under the bed and grabbed it.

 

It was one of Steve's hoodies.

 

He brought it to his face and inhaled, and sure enough it still smelled like Steve. Bucky closed his eyes and breathed steadily in and out, taking in the smell of the man he loved while he was away and lulling him into a peaceful center. It was funny to think something as simple as Steve's natural scent could calm him down.

 

It was packed carefully with the rest of his things.

 

Bucky left the safety and familiarity of the King's palace out to the transport that would take him to his new home. He was escorted by T'Challa and Shuri along with the usual guards, both of them wanting to make sure he settled in to his new home and to thank those who were taking the responsibility of helping his reintegration personally.

 

He smiled and nodded and gave his 'hellos' as well as he was able, and after they greeted their king and the princess in the usual fashion he noted that some of them extended their hands to him for a handshake too. It was such an Americanized gesture among everything else it almost threw him off, but he found himself smiling and shaking their hands gently almost on autopilot as he took everything in.

 

Suddenly he couldn't even remember the last time he had shook another person's hand in greeting. Hell, any pleasant gesture outside of Steve that required skin-to-skin contact had been few and far between. All the contact he could remember in recent memory that were from people and faces he didn't know were anything but kind; pushes, shoves, kicks. Whenever he had moved too slow or started to remember he had been dealt a punishment that 'fit' the crime. Bucky did his best to keep along with the conversation bubbling around him, but he found his hand tingling from the brief yet casual contact.

 

T'Challa and Shuri left shortly after the introductions, and the rest of the day was spent getting the lay of the area. He had his own hut but everything else was communal. They all ate together, they shared the bathroom and shower, they all pulled their own weight. It was a lot to take in but Bucky found himself smiling easier and easier the more he got to know these people kind enough to take him in.

 

He realized the clothing he had been given were in the same color and pattern as everyone else's, and he guessed it was a tribe sort of thing. Maybe he would ask about it later. They lead him along, children following behind them and watching him with fascination wearing vibrant paint on their face that Bucky assumed meant _something_ but was too overwhelmed to ask even if he had any idea how to breech the topic. He just let his questions slide to the back of his mind as he took everything in. After what felt like hours the sun was beginning to set and they gathered around a fire pit to have dinner and talk. It was as if a mini celebration had been put together for his arrival.

 

Bucky lost count of how many times he told them 'thank you' for everything they were doing for him.

 

As the sky grew darker he excused himself. It had been a long, tiring day of learning and socializing, and it was all getting to be too much. He retired to the little hut he had been given and poked around with the privacy settings they had showed him. Despite how rustic the inside looked it was still more advanced than anything he had seen outside of Shuri's lab. The door, despite being little more than a drape, could still 'lock', he could still keep people out. He still had a soft if not small bed on the floor and his belongings.

 

While Bucky lay down he rubbed his fingers over the palm of his hand, skin still tingling from the contact earlier that day. They had shook his hand, touched his shoulder, smiled at him, laughed with him... it was things he hadn't realized he had been missing all this time.

 

Before he knew it he was curled up on his side and crying quietly to himself. Bucky's mind spiraled downward that night, back into the dark.

 

_He didn't deserve any of this kindness._

 

_He was a monster. A weapon. He had killed so many people._

 

_He didn't want to hurt these people too._

 

_He didn't deserve to be happy._

 

Bucky's head was throbbing by the time he fell asleep, his hair and pillow wet from his tears.

 

Getting up the following day was hard. His head still throbbed and there was still an empty hole inside his chest, but he found it was a lot easier to force himself out of bed when he knew others were expecting him.

 

Thankfully after yesterday most of the people in the little village he was calling home had picked up on Bucky being a man of few words. They still spoke to him gently, but after the initial meeting it seemed like they no longer expected him to add to the conversation, which was a godsend. He still felt like he didn't deserve their smiles, their kind words and thoughtful handouts, but all of that stayed deep in his stomach where it churned less and less as the day went on.

 

They had a communal breakfast before he was given tasks to do in order to help out and adjust. Farming, crafting, cooking, they showed him a little bit of everything before asking him which he thought he would prefer the most, and the manual labor of farming seemed the most appealing to him. One arm or not, he was still stronger than the average man his size by a large margin, and now that he didn't have access to workout equipment it was the easiest way to burn off energy and keep his mind peacefully blank.

 

The first few days were nice and simple. Steve was away for at least a week dealing with his usual crazy Nazi and/or alien nonsense, and for once Bucky was kept busy enough that he didn't get a lot of time to sit and mope or dwell on it. Night was the worst, but with enough manual labor he was a lot of times tired enough to fall asleep right away, which was a blessing.

 

It was strange to think he was carving out a life for himself in Wakanda of all places. Had someone told him this was where he would end up thinking about settling down when he was younger he would have laughed in their face, but here he was; hauling hay as groups of children followed him and talked around him.

 

Most of the time they spoke in isiXhosa, and Bucky still didn't know enough of it to follow their conversations, so mostly he just let them talk without thinking much of it. Occasionally one would break out in English and ask him something, and Bucky would always respond. They seemed fascinated by him, asking him where he came from and what he did before, or to stop what he was doing to watch so-and-so 'climb this tree because they could totally do it before Bucky could haul three hay bales to the pen'.

 

Bucky loved being around the kids, even if it was a little bittersweet. It made him think of his sisters. One day he wondered if any of them had children that were alive, but the thought of contacting them and letting them know he was living, of the things he had done... it was too much to bare.

 

After a few days Shuri stopped by too which was a welcome surprise. Despite being a _princess_ and the leading scientist for Wakanda she still took the time out of her schedule to see him, something Bucky still had a hard time wrapping his head around. It was strange to know all these 'important' people. Stranger still knowing that some of them cared for him and wanted to help him get better. Sure he had been best friends with 'Captain America' even before they both went on ice, but to him Steve had never really been that, he had been the plucky little kid he grew up with first and the whole red, white, and blue had been an afterthought, something that _came_ with Steve but wasn't _really_ Steve.

 

Shuri seemed to be the one who wanted to help his integration into the more bustling parts of society. She took him to a market that ranged from produce and meat to small comfort items and blankets. He picked up some things to take back to the tribe kind enough to take him in, as well as a few things for himself before they head back.

 

It was nice to spend time with Shuri again. He had been afraid after leaving the palace he wouldn't get to see her, but knowing she took time out of her schedule just to come check up on him... meant quite a lot.

 

He hoped Shuri knew that, even if his voice locked up every chance he thought to tell her how much her friendship meant to him.

 

When he arrived back there was more chores and then dinner, and it had been another exhausting day. Chores helped keep his mind clear, but spending so much time around people was exhausting when he wasn't used to it. He knew it would only get easier from here, and the more time he spent learning the ins and outs of how things worked the less they would need to watch him and mentor him to make sure he knew what he was doing and where everything was.

 

Bucky collapsed down into his bed and lay there staring at the ceiling of his hut.

 

It was always right before bed that was the hardest. It was when his mind wandered; when he thought of Steve and wondered where he was or how he was doing.

 

He checked his phone but his messages were still unread. Steve had told him he would be going dark for awhile, but it still made his chest hurt knowing that all his little updates went on deaf ears until Steve came back. Bucky sighed and rolled over.

 

That was when his eyes met the half-opened bag with his clothes inside, Steve's hoodie peeking out from the zipper.

 

Bucky stared at it for a moment or two before sitting up and reaching out to grab it, tugging it close and inhaling Steve's smell that still lingered on the fabric deeply. He closed his eyes and curled up, letting the comfort it brought seem deep into his bones.

 

He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, but soon he was uncurling and stripping off his clothes to tug Steve's hoodie up over him. He tugged the neck over his mouth and nose and breathed slowly before deciding to maybe give jerking off another shot.

 

Worst case scenario the same thing happened and he got nowhere, right?

 

Right.

 

Bucky splayed his hand downwards and gripped himself, palming up and down his cock without giving as much fanfare as he had the time before. If he was going to get off, he wanted to get off. Maybe taking his time and being careful wasn't the way to go about it for his first time after all these years.

 

He pumped himself up and down, closing his eyes and breathing in Steve's scent through the fabric of his hoodie. He let his mind wander to things he had done with Steve before, how they had snuck away any chance they could get in the middle of a war zone to fool around, how before the war they would hide on the roof of their building and kiss under the stars.

 

Steve had always been the one to take the lead, even before the serum. He didn't have the confidence that Bucky had, the self-assurance of what he wanted to do or where he wanted to go when it came to fooling around or having sex, but once Bucky got things going in a certain direction Steve always found his footing and turned the tables, and Bucky was always happy to lay back and let Steve do everything he wanted to him.

 

Steve had been gorgeous then and was still gorgeous now, just in a wildly different way.

 

He remembered having to do a lot of the physical work of sex before the war. Steve would get winded way too easily even though it frustrated him to all hell, but _after_. Wow. Bucky remembered the first time they had snuck away on the trek back from Azzano. They had both been dirty and gross and it hadn't mattered one bit, their lips crashing together as soon as they knew they were alone.

 

Bucky had kept calling him an idiot as he undressed him, and all Steve had been managing between kisses were small 'I knows'.

 

He had explored every inch of Steve's new body with his hands, or as much as they dared undress should someone stumble on them hidden in the woods, and things had gotten more and more heated until they couldn't take it anymore--

 

When Bucky opened his eyes and looked down at himself he was half hard. His breathing was quick and heavy, and he realized the emptiness in his chest where he knew Steve fit wasn't _just_ in his chest anymore.

 

He rolled over and grabbed for the lube he had managed to buy discreetly at the market today when Shuri wasn't looking.

 

After slicking up his fingers he shifted himself around so he could grind against the bed while his arm reached around to feel his hole, pressing against it experimentally and getting himself ready before pushing in the first finger just barely. It was a lot after all this time, but enough to take him right back to his reunion with Steve.

 

He remembered the shock that went through him seeing his cock for the first time, how it had hung heavy between his legs. Steve had always been big despite his small stature, but now that the _rest of him_ was bigger it was as if things had just... scaled up along with it.

 

Sucking him off had been difficult that first time, but it actually hadn't taken long for Steve to get hard for him. Both of them were just so excited and over the moon to have the other in touching distance that without much work at all they were both ready, even if it meant doing it in the middle of a war zone in Italy after the crazy Nazi shitshow they had just come out of.

 

Bucky remembered Steve's spit-slicked, rough fingers pushing into him to get him as ready as he could for the task at hand, how his moans were muffled by Steve's lips and tongue sloppy against his mouth.

 

Back outside of Bucky's memories he opened his eyes and angled his face away from where it had been pressed into the sheets tangled on the bed to try and catch his breath. Two fingers were deep inside him now, cock painfully erect and dripping just from the act and memories alone.

 

He shut his eyes tight and tried to go back there, tried to continue the memory, to latch onto a point that was crystal clear.

 

Bucky remembered saying something to Steve, something hungry and impatient, and how Steve had suddenly looked unsure. He hadn't wanted to hurt him.

 

A breathy laugh suddenly escaped his throat as he remembered how pissed he was at Steve's hesitation. He couldn't remember what he had said, but it had gotten a laugh out of Rogers and before he knew it a pair of hands were lifting him up and pressing his back against a tree so Bucky had to wrap his arms and legs around him to stay upright. Bucky remembered Steve leaning close to his ear and saying;

 

“ _I've always wanted to be able to do this.”_

 

Bucky's memory white out as he came, mouth open and pressed into the bed. He clenched tight around his fingers and his hips jerked before he collapsed downward and slowly pulled out after a few more lazy strokes. As he came down from his high he opened his eyes to look down at the mess he had made and a rough laugh bubbled up from his chest.

 

An orgasm 70 plus years in the making.

 

After a moment he managed the energy to clean himself and the bed as much as he was able, then lay back down to finally get some sleep still wearing Steve's hoodie.

 

As he closed his eyes he tried to finish the memory; how it had hurt the first time but he hadn't wanted Steve to know, but also how it was some of the best sex he had ever had simply because it was _Steve_ , and back then there had been a part of him that never thought he would see him again, let alone hold him.

 

Whatever gods were listening must have taken pity on him, because before his mind could start to go into the dark where he would fret over whether or not he _would_ see Steve again, his mind drifted off to the much more peaceful black of slumber.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is basically just a sex chapter. lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using the explanation of them being closeted as a reason they didn't touch all that much in the movies, and added a tag for those who don't like reading about closeted characters since I know that's often not something people like to read about, but I kinda like writing about it since I was closeted and in denial for a long time, and live in an area where I have to be constantly vigilant about my safety. Projection!!
> 
> Also I read in another fic about the huts having a 'privacy mode' and I'm shamelessly stealing that idea for this one just to keep everyone from hearing these two fuggin'.
> 
> I've roughly finished the outline of how this ends so I'm assuming two more chapters, and have also decided to change the ending up again so this fic WILL be Infinity War compliant, but definitely not Endgame. That dumb shit never happened. So be aware of that knowing how that movie ends.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading this! It's definitely been fun writing these two.

It was the following day that Bucky's phone finally sprang to life. He always kept it on his person just in case Steve might call or text him, so when he felt it buzz his heart nearly jumped out of his mouth. The text read simply; _“Finally finished up, coming in tonight.”_

 

Bucky stared at the text for what was probably much longer than he intended before replying; _“look forward to it.”_

 

He knew it didn't convey even an ounce of the excitement that he was actually feeling, but he was afraid if he _did_ try and channel the emotions he was feeling his phone might explode. His heart certainly felt that way.

 

The rest of the day couldn't go by fast enough. Bucky let everyone know that Steve would be coming and they didn't appear very surprised. T'Challa must have warned them ahead of time that he and Steve were sort of a combination deal.

 

As soon as his chores were finished Bucky rushed to wash up, change his clothes to the best ones he had, and spent extra time grooming his beard and hair. When he looked into the mirror in front of him he actually wondered if maybe he was trying so hard that it would be noticeable, and he couldn't help but feel a fear bubble up inside him at the thought of the people he was living with _knowing_ about the extent of his relationship with Steve. He had to pace his breathing after that and try to calm down.

 

They never did anything in public. It was fine.

 

Part of him remembered spending this much time on his appearance before the war, back when he would take pretty girls out dancing, trying to get Steve to come along or hook him up with someone just so he would come with, just so he could actually enjoy the night with his best pal while still keeping appearances.

 

There were no girls anymore. Bucky didn't think he could even stomach pretending to be with someone else. Steve just meant too much to him, even if they were both desperately trying to keep things as private as possible.

 

As far as the world had come, neither of them were quite ready for that reveal.

 

He wasn't sure if they would ever be.

 

Bucky went to dinner that evening with butterflies in his stomach, so excited he could barely eat anything. The other adults commented on how happy he looked knowing his friend was coming, and again the fear that they _knew_ bloomed inside him, but he did his best to reach inside himself and not act out; to keep both his excitement and his anxiety as hidden as well as he could.

 

The sky was a wonderful orange gold when one of the children shouted and everyone turned to watch Steve Rogers walk over a small hill and make his way towards them.

 

Bucky had to physically restrain himself from bolting to his feet.

 

He stood slowly and gave the others around the fire a nod before walking as calmly as he could to meet Steve halfway. When they got close enough that they could make out the details of one another, Steve dirty from his mission with rings under his eyes and Bucky bright and clean, it was Steve that stopped and stared at him with wide eyes and a slack-jawed expression.

 

“Hey Steve,” Bucky said as casually as he could, and he waited a beat for a response before his eyebrows went up and a smile pulled at his lips. Steve still hadn't moved or even really _blinked_.

 

“Well?” he asked, “You just gonna stand there or give me a hug?”

 

That seemed to snap him out of it. Steve blinked hard and closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Bucky and shoving his face into his hair. He took a deep breath and held on, and even though Bucky was squeezing him back as tight as he could and didn't want to let go, he was afraid it had lasted too long for those watching and started to pull away.

 

It was clear neither of them wanted it to end. Their hands lingered on each others arms, cradling elbows with palms just for some skin-on-skin contact.

 

“You look...” Steve began, and he suddenly had to take a breath before finishing his sentence, “... good.”

 

Bucky smiled, eyes crinkling around the edges. “Thanks. You look like shit.”

 

Steve laughed and dipped his head. “Yeah. It's been a helluv'a week.” His voice suddenly sounded as tired as he looked. Bucky's smile turned sympathetic and he squeezed Steve's elbow before making his hand drop. They had already been touching too long for anyone watching.

 

“I bet. I'll introduce you to everyone and we can hide away for the rest of the night, huh?”

 

Steve couldn't help but look relieved.

 

They walked back to the center of the village where everyone was finishing up their dinner and beginning to wind down with talk of the day. Bucky made the introductions as quick and polite as he could, and they showed Steve to the empty hut next to Bucky's where he could sleep for as long as he was with them. Steve spent most of his time thanking them, if not for their hospitality than for taking in Bucky and helping his recovery, but they would just smile and wave him off and tell him how nice it was to have the 'White Wolf' staying with them.

 

Still, as nice as everyone was, they were both eager to get time alone.

 

After getting a small tour and saying hello, Bucky excused them both with the pretext that they were going to go catch up in his hut. It was bought easily enough, and they walked to Bucky's hut, one slightly in front of the other until they got inside his tent.

 

He barely managed to set the privacy mode before Steve's hands were all over him, breath heavy like he had been holding it all this time. Bucky stumbled back a few steps before regaining his balance, grabbing onto Steve to keep them from slamming into one of the walls.

 

“Steve,” he breathed, suddenly just as out of breath. “Careful. We can't go crashin' into these walls.”

 

“Sorry,” Steve said, hands having already pushed up the robes Bucky was wearing to grab and squeeze his thighs and ass.

 

Bucky was glad he had made the executive decision to go without underwear.

 

“Just--” Steve didn't finish, pausing to suck on Bucky's neck. “--you look so gorgeous.”

 

The laugh that bubbled out of Bucky's throat was as giddy as he felt. “Thanks, doll. Did myself up pretty for you.”

 

“You sure did.” Steve said between reverent kisses up Bucky's neck, working to his jaw. Bucky tilted his head back to give better access while a heavy breath heaved out of his chest like he had been holding it all this time. Maybe he had been.

 

His hand reached up to cup the side of Steve's face, guiding him away from his neck and upward. As much as he loved feeling those lips on his skin, he really needed to feel them on his own.

 

They locked together, slow and passionate, barely breaking for air as Bucky lead them backwards and gripped his hand onto the straps of Steve's uniform so he didn't fall completely, but Steve's hands were already on his hips and guiding him down into the bed where their kissing continued. He parted his legs just as Steve was slotting a knee between them, their chests pressed together even as fabric and tactical gear still kept them apart. When their lips finally broke apart and they tried to catch their breath their faces stayed so close together that it was hard to even look one another in the eyes. Still, that didn't stop Bucky from searching through Steve's like he could see all the secrets of the universe inside them.

 

“I missed you.” He whispered, like if he spoke any louder everything that was holding this moment up would snap and the world would come crashing down.

 

“I missed you too.” Steve said, voice just as soft.

 

There was a moment where they just breathed one another's air and stared at each other like they needed to drink all the details in. To Steve Bucky looked tan. Healthy. Happy. His hair fanned out around his head on the sheets and was just as soft as it looked as he ran his hands through it.

 

To Bucky Steve looked older than he had the last time he had seen him. Tired. Worn, but still the man he loved even before the serum, before the war. It was just now they both carried more shadows in their eyes. More weight on their shoulders.

 

“... You need to get out of your gear.” Bucky said after he had enough waiting, letting go of the strap on Steve's shoulder.

 

“Ah. Yeah.” Steve's eyes looked down at himself before back to Bucky. He was hesitant to pull away, but after a moment did just that; standing and peeling off his uniform. He was in the middle of peeling off his under armor when he caught sight of Bucky doing much the same, stripping out of the robes he wore to lay naked on the bed. Blood rushed to the surface of Steve's face and groin all at the same time.

 

He must have stopped and stared a little too long, because Bucky was propping himself up with a curious look on his face.

 

“You gonna just stand there and stare, keepin' me waiting?”

 

Steve's mouth opened, then closed. He felt like a love-struck kid all over again. “I, uh, I didn't think--”

 

Bucky's expression changed to something a bit more understanding. Of course it would take Steve off guard, he realized they probably hadn't even been fully naked together since the war. He smiled, something small and affectionate, and said; “It's okay. I've thought about it lately. A lot.” Bucky huffed a laugh. “Maybe not... y'know, all the way,” he gave a one-armed shrug. “But I'd like to lay together at least. See what happens.” His eyes flicked down at the messy sheets underneath him, then up at Steve who was still staring.

 

A bark of a laugh escaped him as Steve started to scramble out of his boots and pants faster than he had ever seen him. Bucky lay back before Steve could crash over him just as they had been before with hungry kisses.

 

Steve was achingly hard but seemed hesitant to press against him, like it would be crossing a line. Bucky reached up and grabbed his hip to guide him down.

 

Their hips pressed together, and even though Bucky was only at half mast they both sucked in a sharp breath.

 

Neither of them moved their hips at first. Bucky carded his fingers through Steve's hair while Steve explored Bucky's body. He had never seen it after what HYDRA had done, after the off-brand serum they had pumped into him. He traced all of Bucky's muscles, lips caressing each new line. His calloused hands followed every new scar, not just the one that Bucky had lost, but others that were just as old and healed over wrong.

 

Some looked like burn marks, some old bullet wounds or deep cuts. With the speed at which he knew Bucky healed, they must have been from times where he had been without medical aid for a long time, or had been forced to push through his injuries to get the mission finished. His eyes landed on an old bullet wound on Bucky's chest and in his mind he knew it would have hit his lung; collapsed it. Not wanting to dwell too hard on the suffering that must have caused he placed a reverent kiss over it.

 

Bucky sighed outward in response. “Sorry I'm not as good looking as I used to be.”

 

It was said in jest, his mouth curving up in a little smirk, but when Steve looked up from kissing his scar there was no amusement in his eyes.

 

“Buck,” he said firmly, and the humor on Bucky's face drained away. “You'll always be the handsomest fella I've ever seen in my life. No scars, no missing arm, no _brainwashing_ , could ever change that. You'll always be my best guy, inside 'n out. You hear?”

 

Bucky felt something bubble up inside his chest and clog his throat. He blinked a few times as his eyes burned, a few stray tears escaping before he managed a choked laugh and reached up to touch Steve's cheek. “You fuckin' sap.”

 

They both laughed and it devolved into kisses.

 

When it started to peter out Bucky leaned back so he could get a better look at Steve. “Hey.”

 

“Hey?” Steve smiled, but before he could say anything else Bucky shifted his legs and wrapped them around his waist, hips pushing upward and sliding their dicks together. A heady breath pushed past his lips and he locked eyes with Bucky before giving a tentative thrust back. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky said, a little breathless.

 

They started to thrust against one another, and when it became clear they needed a little more slide Bucky reached back between the bed and the wall to pull out the lube he had hidden there just in case of this sort of situation.

 

“Always prepared.” Steve grinned, taking the bottle so he could slick them up. He gripped them both with a large hand, keeping them together as he thrust downward and Bucky pushed up to meet him.

 

Bucky closed his eyes and arched his back, arm looping around Steve's neck and pulling him down so their flesh was as connected as they could possibly be. A part of him desperately wanted Steve inside him, but he didn't want to take things too fast. It had been a long, long time since they were together like this. He had to tread lightly, not knowing what might trigger him to have a flashback that would stop him in his tracks.

 

This though, this felt right. Completely right.

 

“Stevie,” he moaned, fully hard now.

 

“I'm here, Buck.” Steve's voice was right in his ear, breath against his cheek. “I've got you.”

 

Tiny noises escaped Bucky's throat as he thrust up against Steve and into his hand. He kept trying to pull him closer even though every part of their bodies were pressed against one another, like if there was even an inch of flesh not touching everything would fade away. His hand gripped Steve's hair while kisses dotted along his neck, and he felt warmth pooling in his groin much quicker than he wanted it to. It had been a long time, though. Bucky didn't touch himself often, so it was no surprise that he would come first.

 

“Steve--” Bucky whined, trying to warn him. Steve didn't say a thing, moving his lips up to kiss the corner of Bucky's lips as he came between them. His back arched and he gripped Steve's hair before lowering back down onto the bed.

 

Steve slowed his ministrations to coax Bucky through the aftermath of his orgasm, then pulled away to finish himself. Bucky blinked dreamily up at him, having enough awareness to push upward and slide Steve's cock along his hip with a stupid smile on his face, and that seemed to be all the more encouragement Steve needed to finish. The deep baritone grunt he buried in the crook of Bucky's neck was music to his ears; like hearing a song you loved again for the first time in decades.

 

He collapsed beside Bucky but kept one arm draped over his chest while they caught their breath.

 

“Was that okay?” Steve asked, always concerned with how Bucky felt even if it was _obvious_. Bucky couldn't help but laugh and look over at him, hair stuck to his face from sweat.

 

“No Steve, it was awful.” He grinned, but quickly added so Steve knew he was joking without a doubt; “It was great. I've been thinking about this a lot.” To emphasize his point he rolled onto his side and flung a leg over Steve's hip to pull them together.

 

“Me too,” Steve confessed, “But I didn't want to rush you.”

 

Bucky hmm'd in acknowledgment before leaning closer to kiss him slow and lazy. “Grab that rag so we can clean up before I fall asleep with your come all over me.”

 

Steve chuckled and did as he was asked, wiping himself clean before gently doing the same to Bucky, sharing more sloppy kisses before he tossed the rag off the side of the bed.

 

They fell asleep in a tangle of limbs, the hut beside them Steve had been allowed to stay in long forgotten.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically Infinity War in Bucky's POV and ends just as you expect, so if you don't like cliffhangers you might want to wait until I churn out the ending. I PROMISE there's a happy ending and no, it's not Endgame compliant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to churn out, but summer is busy season for me so I don't have a lot of time or energy to write. Only one more chapter to go before I wrap all this up in a nice little bow and move onto other projects. I really hope you've enjoyed this so far! It's definitely been an experiment for me since this is my first dive into the fandom.

Both of them wake up some time before the sun rises and there's a mad scramble for Steve to grab his clothes and dive into the hut beside him before anyone notices that he never left last night. It makes them both feel like kids again, sneaking out and around, but not in a good nostalgic way. They only have a set amount of time together, and having to be apart to keep up appearances... really sucks.

 

Neither of them sleep for the remainder of the night, instead shooting texts back and forth despite only being a few steps away.

 

They waited until it was a more respectable time to get up to both agree they could excuse their early rising, and stepped outside to take a walk before the sun fully rose above the horizon. They had probably a whole week with one another before Steve would leave again, should nothing unexpected come up. It felt like a long time but it really wasn't, not for how much time they had apart and definitely not now that they had to sleep in separate huts to keep up appearances.

 

But as short as it might be, any time together felt precious.

 

They took a walk and even dared to hold hands for a short part of it before looping back for some breakfast and to talk with his neighbors, the kids in particular seemed very interested in Steve and watching him try his best to interact with kids was always amusing. He had never really been great with kids; not _bad_ , but he had grown up an only child and didn't have a lot of experience whereas Bucky on the other hand had three little sisters. If that didn't teach you how to entertain kids than nothing did.

 

A lot of their time were spent doing Bucky's usual chores even though it was insisted they didn't have to. Both of them couldn't stand to sit still for too long, so hauling hay and heading into market was a nice way to spend time together.

 

It was so peaceful and domestic Bucky had to stop himself on multiple occasions from daydreaming thinking _'this was how it could be'_ when he knew full well that it never would. Steve would never stop fighting. They might never be ready to let the world know what their relationship was like. It was selfish for him to even play with the idea that they could both settle down and be openly together.

 

Bucky had learned to be a little selfish, but he drew the line at forcing Steve to do something that he knew he didn't want to do.

 

They didn't fool around as much as he had thought they would. It was still... a lot. Even if he wanted it, mostly he just ended up falling asleep curled up into Steve's arms before they had to part ways before sunrise when everyone else woke up.

 

They had two blissful days before the universe at large had seen them both happy and decided it needed to intervene.

 

They had just retired to Bucky's hut after having dinner with the others, lying on the bed and enjoying the feeling of a full stomach (not something they often got with super-soldier metabolisms), when there was an unfamiliar ring from Steve's bag. When Bucky looked at Steve even _he_ looked confused before his expression turned gaunt and he sat up quickly.

 

“Steve?” Bucky said, unable to hide the apprehension in his voice. He watched as Steve pulled clothes from his bag and tossed them aside to get to a tiny flip phone. He looked at it, then looked at Bucky.

 

Neither of them had any color left in their face. Both of them knew what that phone meant.

 

Steve flipped it open with a click and answered.

 

Bucky only got half of the conversation, but he could tell it wasn't good. He was talking to someone named Bruce, and from what little he knew that was the Hulk's name, right? But he thought he was gone, so why--

 

He watched as Steve stood and started pacing, his posture changing. Bucky knew, deep in his gut, that it was him going into serious 'Captain America' mode. It made his heart clench and his stomach drop out from under his feet and already he was mentally preparing himself for Steve leaving abruptly.

 

The call didn't actually last that long, but for Bucky it felt like hours. Hours of dread. He knew what was coming even before Steve closed the phone with a _click_ and looked at Bucky in that sad way that he hated so much; eyebrows turning up and mouth tugging downward at the corners.

 

“Go.” He said as soon as Steve opened his mouth to explain himself.

 

A sigh that made his whole body seem to crumple left his mouth before he closed the distance between himself and Bucky to sit beside him on the bed. A strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him close, and Bucky hated how much it _stung_. He shouldn't be feeling like this. He was being selfish.

 

But _god_. He was just... so fed up with this whole thing.

 

“I'm sorry, Buck, but this sounds really serious.” Steve said, but it was all muffled to Bucky's ears.

 

“I know,” he said, unable to stop the bitterness from sneaking into his voice. “It always is.”

 

Steve sighed again and leaned towards him, resting his forehead on Bucky's shoulder and looking so, _so_ tired. The bitterness melted away and only left Bucky feeling like an ass.

 

He turned and placed a kiss in Steve's hair, arm wrapping around him to squeeze his side. “It's okay Stevie. This is what I signed up for when I started lovin' you.”

 

Steve groaned a little, like he was trying to force himself to get up and start moving but desperately didn't want to. “It's something-- some _one_ named Thanos. Something about stones. He's going to be going after Vision, who's dropped off the grid. I've gotta find him before Thanos does.”

 

Bucky hummed in acknowledgment, just to show Steve he was listening.

 

“It sounds really bad, Bucky. Universe-ending bad.” He finally looked up at that, meeting Bucky's gaze. They both held onto it for a long while.

 

“Universe can't end.” Bucky said, then let a beat pass. “Not until I get that dick one more time.”

 

He said it with a completely straight face and that was all Steve needed to burst into laughter, tilting back enough that he fell over on the bed and with one hand reached out to grab Bucky's shoulder. Bucky allowed himself a small smile, even if it felt a bit forced.

 

He was still tormented by the fact that Steve would be leaving in a matter of minutes, but at the very least their last moments together for who knew how long would be Steve's laughter.

 

Bucky laid himself down beside Steve and watched him regain his composure. His smile turned into something else away from amusement and more to fondness. Regret too, maybe.

 

“I'm sorry, Buck.” He said, reaching out to glide a hand through Bucky's hair. “I'll keep in touch as much as I'm able.”

 

Bucky reached up and put his hand over Steve's, threading their fingers. He forced himself to smile. “I know you will.”

 

They lay there for another minute before Steve finally sighed and forced himself to get up. Bucky watched him pack up all his things and then make to leave. They kissed before he walked through the doorway and Bucky watched him go. One of the elders approached him to ask what was wrong and Bucky told them it was urgent business, but that was all. After that he had to duck back into his hut so they wouldn't see just how upset he was.

 

He didn't even cry. He just curled up and stared at the wall of his hut feeling physically ill.

 

Something deep inside him knew this would be one of those times where they wouldn't see each other again anytime soon.

 

His gut feeling is right.

 

Steve keeps him updated, but there are long stretches of days where he doesn't hear from him at all, and a lot of times his texts fill up the little screen without so much as a little ' _read_ ' showing up beside them. It stings, but he tries not to be bitter. This is just how Steve is. He knows that and he still loves him.

 

But then why does it also make him so damn _angry_ that this is how Steve is?

 

He doesn't talk about it with his therapist even though he knows he probably should, but the fear of them putting two and two together and figuring out that he and Steve are more than just friends terrifies him too much to justify it. So he doesn't. He just lets the feeling fester like a wound.

 

A week drags on into two and Bucky lets himself go a bit again. He doesn't bathe as much as he should, he eats less than he should, and he smiles a whole lot less even though the kids try their hardest to improve his mood. He hadn't heard from Steve in over a week and it was really getting to him, and it's become so obvious to those of the village around him that they start to comment to one another on how drastic the change is whenever Steve is gone.

 

It's as though he just... didn't care.

 

He's tending to the goats when he gets an unexpected visitor. It's not that he doesn't see them coming over the hill, he just glances at T'Challa and the others before continuing to throw hay bales because if he stops to think about _why_ they might be coming to him (to tell him Steve is dead) he just might fall apart completely.

 

When they get close enough he finally stops and looks at T'Challa and the guards flanking him, reading the King's expression as best he can.

 

Distress for certain, but a different kind than a death would bring. There was more stress in his face than grief.

 

Bucky wondered if reading faces was something that had been ingrained in him during his time as the Soldier.

 

As he walks over to them T'Challa makes a gesture and one of the guards lifts a black case up onto the back of the half-empty wagon of hay, opening it with a _click_. Bucky can feel his stomach drop as soon as he sees whats inside.

 

A vibranium arm.

 

He knows exactly what that means. Back when everything was starting, before he went into cryo, he had asked T'Challa and Shuri _why_ they were doing this for him. It was then that T'Challa had mentioned merely fixing a mistake, although should the need arise that they might need him, he humbly asked that Bucky be there for them as they were for him. He had agreed completely, even knowing that some day this moment might come.

 

When he looked back up at T'Challa the King looked sad. They both did. Both of them knew that Bucky didn't want to fight, and it broke T'Challa's heart to ask him to do so knowing what Bucky had been through, but if it had come to this... it must have been something big.

 

Whatever Steve was involved in was starting to stretch back to them.

 

Bucky took a deep breath, letting his chest fill to the brim with air before he let it all out in a heavy sigh, his eyes fixed on the arm. “Where's the fight?”

 

“On it's way.”

 

There was a beat of silence before T'Challa spoke again. “I know you have found a sense of peace here, but I assure you I would not have come asking so much were the need not dire.”

 

Bucky managed a small nod, his voice quiet. “I know,” he looked at him then even though the arm felt like it was magnetized to pull his eyes towards it. “This has to do with the mission Steve is on.”

 

“Yes, he and his colleagues are on their way here. If you would follow me we shall get your arm attached along with clothing suitable for the fight ahead.”

 

Bucky nodded again because he couldn't manage to say anything else and began to follow T'Challa and the guards back the way they had came. The silver lining to all of this was that he would finally see Steve again, even if it was before a fight. His first fight since coming out of cryo.

 

His fingers and toes tingled and his nerves felt on fire, both with dread and a sick anticipation to get his blood, his whole body, moving in that same way again. He had been fighting for _so long_.

 

It never stopped.

 

Why did it never stop?

 

They made it back to the palace, T'Challa filling him in on everything Steve had told him, and things started to move very fast. Bucky showered and dressed in his new armor, and couldn't help but snort a bit to himself at how obvious it was they had designed it to mesh both his tactical gear as the Winter Soldier and his uniform in the war into a single design. After that it was down to Shuri, who was _way_ too excited about him finally using the arm she had made for him.

 

“So how much is this going to hurt?” Bucky asked, _sounding_ sarcastic but also actually wanting to know for real. Getting his arm worked on had never felt good. Even here the recovery after getting it removed hadn't been painless thanks to his painkillers never lasting very long due to the half-baked serum pumping through his veins. But Shuri just gave him an insulted look.

 

“Uh, none? What do you take me for?” She asked, getting an assistant to help line the arm up to its ports as she started to connect some of the wires.

 

“Sorry,” Bucky said before having to look away from it all. He didn't want to see it connect. Shuri glanced at him and became a lot more sympathetic.

 

“All you'll feel is a slight pressure in your shoulder. That's all. Ready?”

 

“No, but go ahead.” Bucky still didn't look.

 

Then there was the sudden pressure, like someone squeezing where his arm had been once, then nothing. It still sucked all the air from his lungs.

 

“Try moving your fingers?” Shuri asked, and Bucky had to take another breath before finally letting himself look down at his new arm. He flexed his fingers in and out and was shocked at how smooth it was. How light. His surprise must have been on his face because Shuri started to laugh. “How does it feel?”

 

“Not as bad as I thought it would,” he smiled. “No offense.”

 

“None taken. Now go.” Shuri gently pushed Bucky off her exam table. “There is much more I need to prepare for. Your friend should be here any moment.”

 

Bucky smiled as he left. “Thank you, Shuri.”

 

He saw her smile back, but it didn't last long for either of them. Both knew that things were about to get really bad. This was just the calm before the storm.

 

By the time he made it back outside he could see the quinjet landing. Steve, Natasha, and a few others were walking towards T'Challa, and he had to take a moment to pause and catch his breath at seeing Steve alive and _unharmed_. He held back just a little as they spoke, able to pick up pieces of the conversation while he collected himself. As much as he wanted to run at Steve and jump into his arms and kiss his big, stupid face, there were way too many people around for that. So instead he approached as calmly as he could.

 

“How we looking?” Natasha said just as Bucky started to get close.

 

“You will have my kingsguard, the border tribe, the dora milaje, and--” T'Challa pauses and gestures to Bucky in dramatic fashion, and at seeing Steve's face he can't help but smile from ear to ear. It's like he's alive again whenever Steve is close; like he can only breathe the same air as him.

 

“A semi-stable 100 year old man.” Bucky finishes for the king.

 

Without a word Steve smiles brightly, eyes crinkling around the corners, and reaches out to pull him into a hug. It's tight and all encompassing and Bucky has to fight to not close his eyes and lean his face into Steve's neck, to not stand there and take in the smell of his sweat and grime like it's the best thing in the world. He's thankful Steve is able to pull away easier than he is. Neither of them want to make anyone think about their relationship too much, so they keep it brief despite what they actually want to do.

 

“How you been, Buck?” Steve asks, fondness dripping off every word. His hand lingers just a little on Bucky's shoulder.

 

“Not bad,” he says with a smirk, “for the end of the world.”

 

They stare at one another for a length of time that feels both like an eternity and not long enough before T'Challa speaks up. “Captain, we haven't much time.”

 

Steve nods and gives Bucky a last smile before Bucky watches him switch back into Cap mode. He touches Sam's shoulder as he passes and asks him to make sure Bucky is filled in, then heads with a few others inside. Even though Sam nods he saddles up to Bucky not looking all that happy. Bucky shifts himself into a more battle-ready stance, pulling his gun to sit casually in front of him. Sam breaks the silence first.

 

“... You look good, man.”

 

“Thanks,” Bucky looks at him, eyes squinting a little from the sun. “You kinda look like shit.”

 

Sam huffs a laugh. “Kinda feel like it. Watchin' your buddy's back is a full-time job.”

 

A fond smile stretches across Bucky's face. “Tell me about it.”

 

He wants to thank Sam for watching over Steve when he can't, but he isn't sure how to say it, and by the time he does think of something too much time has passed and Sam is filling the silence again. “You all filled in on what's goin' on?”

 

“As much as I can understand.” Bucky glances at him again. “An alien named Thanos is coming, collecting stones that will help him wipe out humanity or something. One of your guys has one of the stones.”

 

“Vision, yeah. They're gonna try and detach it from him before Thanos and his chronies get here.”

 

“Who are also aliens.” It's a question not entirely phrased like a question.

 

“Who are also aliens.” Sam repeats, sounding just as exhausted with the idea of having to fight aliens as Bucky does, who sighs and shifts on his feet.

 

“Y'know I used to dream about going to space and meeting aliens. Kind of a bummer knowing that all they wanna do is come and destroy us.”

 

“Tell me about it.” Sam huffs.

 

Their attention is pulled skyward as something rumbles high above them, and a massive drop ship starts to descend. Sam hesitates a moment, like he can't believe what he's seeing before he puts a finger to the comm in his ear. “Hey Cap, we got a situation here.”

 

Just as Bucky is bracing for the impact it slams into the outside of the barrier protecting the city in a fiery explosion that slides down along the edges. Despite himself he can't help but smile and breathe out a sigh of relief. “God, I love this place.”

 

“Yeah don't start celebrating yet guys,” Rhodey's voice chimed up through their comms, “We got more coming outside the dome.”

 

Of course just as he said it they could feel the heavy thud vibrate through the ground as more started to land, shattering through the trees outside the dome and crashing into the ground. Something started to bubble up in Bucky's stomach before Steve's voice in his ear calmed him down enough for him to get back to the present.

 

“We're on our way down, get ready. We'll need to buy as much time as we can.”

 

As soon as Steve is close Bucky falls into step by his side and everyone starts to load onto the transport vehicles. As they ride he talks strategy, how they're going to position themselves at one point and do everything they can to keep them there, wedging all the manpower they have between the invaders and Shuri desperately working to get the stone from Visions head. When they arrive they can see a pair of aliens standing just outside the barrier.

 

They climb off the transports along with everyone else, guards and soldiers and tribesman lining up in formation as they prepare for a fight that might take all of their lives. Bucky saddles up beside Steve and keeps his face as neutral as he's able, letting himself fall back into the role of soldier despite how much the thought scares him.

 

Once everyone is in place Steve, T'Challa, and Natasha walk forward to talk to the two aliens standing just outside the dome. He readjusts his grip on his gun and levels his breathing. The three of them aren't there for long before they start walking back, Steve finding his place beside Bucky once more.

 

“They surrender?” He asks jokingly, because that's how he's always dealt with stress; jokes and humor.

 

“Not exactly.” Steve says back, and Bucky can hear the small tinge of what humor he _can_ manage in his voice.

 

T'Challa begins to rally just as swarms of... _something_ start to crash through the treeline outside the barrier. Bucky squints and is both thankful and resentful for his advanced sight. “What the hell...”

 

His voice is only loud enough for Steve to hear over the chanting and growing crescendo of growls and grunts charging from the things outside the dome. They're like rabid animals, but he's unable to compare them to anything here on Earth. Bigger than a lion and twice as ferocious.

 

Steve remains silent at his side, but Natasha breaks the tense silence. “Looks like we pissed her off.”

 

The swarm crashes into the dome with a hollow thud, and they scratch and claw at it enough to partially get through. They only ever get so far though, the barrier slicing off their limbs and cutting them in half. But they don't seem to care at all, throwing themselves against it in droves to get inside.

 

For once Okoye's voice is neither commanding or level. “They're killing themselves...”

 

Some of them manage to get through, and even though they have limbs missing and burnt flesh they start to charge forward. T'Challa calls out and the shields go up, and Bucky takes a breath before leveling his gun. Another signal from T'Challa and they begin to shoot down the creatures running towards them.

 

Bucky levels his breathing and lets himself fall back into the odd calm that comes with fighting. Short bursts into the heads seems to be what takes them down. Hitting limbs or even vital organs will slow them, but not enough for it to be worth it. They don't react to pain and only seem to have the desire to kill... and probably eat them, once Bucky lets himself have a moment to think about it.

 

Not how he wants to go out, honestly.

 

He can see and hear Rhodey and Sam giving them aerial support even though his eyes never leave his targets. They all seem to see the same thing at the same time though; the creatures have started to circle around to find another way in.

 

“Cap, if these things circle the perimeter and get behind us, there's nothing between them and Vision.” Bruce says through the comm.

 

“Then we better keep them in front of us.” Steve mumbles.

 

Bucky knows what Steve is thinking even before he can hear Okoye and T'Challa start talking about what to do, and his stomach drops with the dread of whats coming. He does his best to swallow it down and get back into the detached calm he needs to be in in order to get them all out of this alive.

 

They're going to open the barrier just enough to let them through.

 

He can't look at Steve as the duel shields clunk into their extended positions, he just takes a breath and prepares himself to watch Steve's back.

 

_'Just like old times,'_ he thinks, although he's not sure if he'd rather be shooting Nazi's or these weird alien dog things. Probably Nazi's, at least they had it coming. These things just seem to be working off instinct.

 

T'Challa shouts and they all charge.

 

Maybe it's selfish. Maybe it's not the most strategic thing to do, but his focus falls away from the creatures closest to them and zero in on Steve's back instead. If any get close enough he shoots them down, watching his back. He can't _not_ do anything else.

 

He just can't.

 

It's chaos.

 

Steve and T'Challa zoom ahead just before everything clashes, and just like that a switch is flipped inside his head.

 

It would frighten him later how easy it feels to fall back into the Soldier's role.

 

Very quickly things get overwhelming. Bucky loses sight of Steve and then it's all he can do to keep the creatures off his own back. There are too many, and just as Bucky turns to shoot one another leaps onto him and knocks him back into the mud and dirt. Its jaws snap at his face until he shoves his left arm into its mouth and flips a knife off his thigh to start stabbing into its chest and throat.

 

Despite all this he can only think of Steve and how he's not watching his back. Somewhere in the back of his mind as he's shoving the now dead creature off himself he can hear screaming and yelling, and then the air is cold.

 

He's not standing over a beast, but a man that had managed to get into their trench. It's not an alien coming at him that he stabs in the eye, but another soldier. As he fights it off all he can think of is that he's going to die before getting back home to Steve-- but at least Steve is back there. Safe. Free from the horrors of war.

 

As he looks up all he can see are armed men charging towards them, and then the air gets hotter and hotter, and an intense blink of light and electricity snaps him out of his flashback.

 

He's not in Italy, he's in Wakanda.

 

Those aren't Nazi's, they're aliens.

 

The light isn't some strange German tech, but a man standing in a cleared out circle with two others and holding an ax.

 

Bucky blinks a few more times and his mind connects the dots.

 

Thor.

 

He's clearing a path unlike anyone else, and Bucky sees it as an opportunity to try and locate Steve again. He rushes forward, reloading in the meantime, but has to slow down again as more crowd around him.

 

Fuck. _Where the hell is Steve?_

 

Somehow he ends up next to... god. Whatever that is. A raccoon? And it's talking. And-- fuck they're getting surrounded again.

 

It only takes a split second to realize the... raccoon... is sort of firing blindly. Clearly he's enjoying himself (good for him?), but if he's going to keep moving using him for a moment to clear a pathway seems like the best option.

 

As the creatures draw closer Bucky reaches down and snatches the little thing up by the back of the shirt, turning to clean house with the aliens in one direction while using the raccoon to clear his back. Once they have a moment of reprieve he drops him down again.

 

“How much for the gun?”

 

The question throws Bucky off so hard he staggers a little before raising it back up to continue firing. “Not for sale,” he says plainly without thinking, his mind so focused on trying to find Steve.

 

“Okay, how much for the arm?”

 

That _really_ throws him off. He stops shooting just to look down at the little thing and let his brain catch up to the fact he's talking to a fucking _raccoon_. His brain can't even process it quickly enough to come up with a witty comeback like he knows he would have normally. So, after a beat he just... walks away.

 

Processing all of that can come later.

 

Just as he thinks he can catch up to Steve the ground rises at the edge of the dome and massive saw blades break through the earth. Before T'Challa yells to fall back Bucky is already running for cover so he doesn't get run in half.

 

This is all insane.

 

He hears Sam mention Vision, and then Steve's voice cuts through it all. Despite how panicked he sounds it's like Bucky takes the first breath since he lost sight of him, just knowing that Steve is alive and well enough to _be_ panicked.

 

There's more yelling for backup for Vision, and even though Bucky knows he should head in that direction he just-- he needs to get to Steve first. He finally gets sight of him as he barrels through throngs of creatures towards a treeline and starts to follow, but there's so much in front of him, so much separating them. All he can think of is Steve, switching between firing his gun, reloading, and switching to his knives when they get too close.

 

Steve's voice cuts in again, sounding more composed, but only just. There's a tension in his voice that says even though he's not currently throwing punches, something even worse is coming.

 

How could things possibly get worse?

 

Bucky finally manages to find them through the trees, slowing his pace and catching his breath as an odd silence descends over the area, but it doesn't last long. Something big steps through a smoking portal, and Bruce quietly confirms that that's him.

 

Thanos.

 

“Eyes up. Stay sharp.” Steve says, and the odd calm is back again now that Bucky can finally watch his back, even if they're facing off the guy behind all of this chaos and destruction.

 

They charge him, but each of them falls. Bruce is simply cast aside and merged into a boulder, Steve is thrown without even being touched, T'Challa is grabbed out of the air and punched to the ground.

 

His bullets don't seem to be doing anything. They're bouncing off like nothing.

 

So he charges, even though he knows deep down he won't get close enough to use one of his knives.

 

And he's right.

 

Thanos simply lifts his hand and he's tossed aside like nothing, all the wind and energy knocked out of him as he lands in the dirt.

 

He can't recall ever being knocked down this badly.

 

Bucky manages to look up just in time to see Steve going toe-to-toe with him, landing blows and dodging what he can. His mouth forms his name but nothing manages to come out, dirt blowing against his face as he exhales and tries to force himself back to his feet.

 

He has to get up to watch Steve's back.

 

Steve is yelling.

 

And then he isn't.

 

The punch he watches slam Steve to the ground is hard enough even he can feel it, and then he isn't moving.

 

Fuck.

 

_He isn't moving_.

 

There's a blast nearby and everything is blown back, and then just as he's able to finally get to his feet there's a flash of white.

 

When he's able to see again he spots Steve on his feet too, walking towards Thor and clutching his side. Despite the panic and something horrible itching through his veins all he can think is _'thank god he's on his feet'_.

 

But something's wrong.

 

He looks at his left arm and it's... it's just turning to dust and--

 

“... Steve?”

 

Bucky looks away from his arm and suddenly everything feels far away. The horror on Steve's face barely processes in his mind before his legs feel like they're numb, and he's falling.

 

He exhales and follows Steve's face with his eyes as long as he can before everything fades away.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in time for Cap's birthday!!
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking with me for this ride of exploration into these two characters. This was my first attempt with them and I hope I did them justice. While I don't have any more long-term plans for these two, I'm always taking requests over on twitter: @rattlemeoldbone
> 
> To everyone who's left kudos and comments; you're the ones who spurred me onto finishing this and giving them the ending they both desperately needed after the travesty that was endgame, so thank you most of all. I hope this story has made you smile.

Bucky is aware that he's physically somewhere even before he opens his eyes. There's a certain weight to actually having form that... _wherever he was previously_ lacked. His eyes open and he takes a deep breath, inhaling dirt and air for the first time in what feels like _years_.

 

He wished it was a more foreign feeling to him than it was.

 

Brown hair obscures his vision, but he can tell he's lying on the ground somewhere warm. His limbs and chest feel heavy, but like all the times before where he was woken up after a long time under he forces himself to move. The loudest part of him screams at him to get to his feet or risk punishment.

 

He doesn't manage to get entirely to his feet.

 

Bucky shifts and ends up on his ass, hair and twigs plastered to his face as he scans the wooded area. All at once he knows where he is; back home. On Earth. In Wakanda. But it's different.

 

The woods are thicker, the sky is darker, and somehow he just knows in his bones that more time has passed than should be normal.

 

A twig snaps to his left and he spins, grabbing for the knife still strapped to his thigh, but instead of seeing an enemy he sees T'Challa. They share a silent, confused look before they both seem to realize at the same time that it isn't just _them_ that are back, but everyone.

 

Someone else is coming towards them, crashing through the brush and not trying at all to be stealthy. Before either of them can properly catch up to everything happening around them Okoye is crashing into T'Challa muttering in isiXhosa, arms wrapped tightly around him with none of the reservation she would have had before.

 

Bucky can only piece together some of the conversation. _'My king'_ , ' _you're back', 'so much has happened'._

 

The words get muffled like he's underwater as he settles back down and stares ahead.

 

He had died, in a sense. He knows that now. But now he's back.

 

His brain stalls out and he isn't sure how to process it. It's happened so many times to him. He can feel his brain stutter and try to piece together a life that was already so fragmented and damaged that his head just can't keep up.

 

So he shuts down.

 

Talking happens around him. Bushes rustle and twigs snap and there's movement all around as people materialize where they had fallen years ago, but Bucky isn't there. He's checked out.

 

It's only a baritone voice that breaks the hold over his brain, just like every time before.

 

Bucky blinks, then blinks harder, and forces himself to stand and finally take in his surroundings. There are people milling about that he remembers; Hulk and Black Widow, War Machine, T'Challa-- he spots Sam standing beside Steve and his heart jumps up into his mouth. He feels like he's going to vomit.

 

When Steve spots him the hand on Sam's shoulder slides off, and he looks back to him as if to get permission. When Sam nods he finally takes a step towards Bucky.

 

He isn't sure which one of them started running first, but before they even collide together Bucky can feel his chest clenching and unclenching with gut-retching sobs.

 

They crash together, arms wrapped so tight around one another that it hurts.

 

Both of them shove their faces into the crook of the other's shoulder, but Bucky is the first to lift his head and pull away just enough to grab Steve's face and force him to look up so he can kiss him.

 

It isn't slow and sloppy like so many of their kisses have been before, this one is hard and desperate, like if it ever breaks then the other will disappear.

 

When Bucky pulls away it's only for a few short breaths in between smaller but no less frantic kisses.

 

He doesn't care that they're in the middle of the woods surrounded by people they know. He's fucking done caring. Let them know. Let them think whatever they want. He's done hiding. He and Steve have been through enough, have _done_ enough, that they're allowed to have this. And if Steve had any reservations, he's not showing them.

 

They press their foreheads together, Bucky still framing Steve's face in his hands and Steve holding him low on his waist to keep them pressed against one another as firmly as possible.

 

“Bucky,” Steve says, his name like an exhale.

 

Bucky manages a broken, wobbly smile at the sound before his face falls and he can feel himself start to cry again. His arms wrap around Steve's neck and his face finds that perfect crook of his shoulder again. His voice is wet and muffled.

 

“I'm so sick of dyin', Steve.”

 

Steve's resolve finally cracks at the broken sound of his best friend's voice and its all he can do to lean down and rest his head on Bucky's shoulder in the same way that's being done to him. They stand there, not saying anything, both of them crying softly as they hold onto one another.

 

Neither of them care who sees, that everyone in their group now knows their relationship is more than just long-lost friends reunited.

 

Both of them are so beyond caring.

 

…

 

Bucky later finds out that two years had passed while everyone was gone. 'Dusted' they called it. Steve tells him what they had to do, how they managed to get the stones and defeat Thanos and undo all he had done. He can tell its hard for Steve to talk about, but they hold hands and go at a slow pace. He tries his best to tell Steve what being 'dusted' was like but it's difficult to put into words. It was like existing but not at the same time, being trapped in a sort of stasis.

 

It was too familiar to the cryostasis chamber yet still so different.

 

Once the basics are out of the way and they're both caught up, they never talk about it again. After that things move fast. The world picks up for whatever slack they need helping reintegrate people back into society, cleaning up after the fight with Thanos. They help with the clean-up efforts, but that's where things take a turn.

 

“I'm done.” Steve says one day while they're taking a break for lunch. Everyone turns to look at him except for Bucky, who takes another five seconds to slowly look at Steve sat beside him. Steve returns his gaze and reaches up to grasp Bucky's hand on the table for all to see. He squeezes it tightly before looking across at the other Avengers.

 

“I'm done,” he says again. “We'll help finish with clean up, but then I'm hanging up the shield. I'll only come back on if it's another world-ending catastrophe. But otherwise...” he looks back at Bucky. Commits. “I'm done.”

 

It feels like centuries of weight suddenly lift off Bucky's shoulders, and it must read through his posture and expression, because Steve smiles at him. His face is weary from the last two years, aged and different than before, but he knows deep down that this is something Steve has thought a lot about. That he'll commit to.

 

It's a promise to Bucky.

 

“Okay,” Natasha says with little fanfare and continues eating. Thor gives him a strong pat on his shoulder.

 

“You have earned it, my friend. Both of you.”

 

Steve manages a smile at that. “Thank you.”

 

Bucky has to blink a lot to keep from crying and instead focuses intently on his food like its the most interesting thing in the world.

 

When it gets late and clean up is wrapped up for the day, they all retire to the small hotel they're using as a base of operations now that the Tower is gone. No one said anything when Steve and Bucky shared a room from the start.

 

It's so strange. They had both been so scared of anyone knowing, and now they do, and it's like nothing changed. No one has mentioned that they're together. Whatever media still exists have mentioned it only a small handful of times when they're caught holding hands in public or sharing a quick kiss, but none has been bad. It's such a small blip on the radar after everyone has come back that it's mostly been swept under the rug.

 

Small mercies.

 

They're getting ready for bed, peeling off their dirty uniforms and walking around one another half-naked in the bathroom when Bucky finally gets the courage to break the silence.

 

“Did you mean it?”

 

“Mean what, Buck?” Steve asks, huddled over while sat on the toilet to peel off his socks. He makes a face at the smell and tosses them into the growing pile of filthy clothing in the corner.

 

“You know...” he looks down at him, hands gripping the bathroom counter top. “Being done.”

 

Steve looks up at that. He leans back, relaxed, arm resting against the sink as he meets Bucky's eyes. The sincerity in them makes Bucky's knees weak.

 

“Of course I did. After we finish cleaning up, I'm done. We can both be done. I know you never wanted to fight, Buck. And I did, for a long time, but I guess it took--” he stops before the words 'losing you more than once' can leave his mouth. “I guess I finally got worn out. I'm tired.”

 

His eyes drift downward to stare at his feet and the silence stretches on between them.

 

“Took ya long enough. How old are you? 110?” Bucky grins.

 

“Oh shut up.” Steve laughs. When he doesn't look up Bucky walks over and lifts his chin, pressing their lips together gentle and slow.

 

Steve's hands reach up, curling around Bucky's lower back and slowly guiding him downward so he straddles his lap. They continue kissing through it, Bucky's hands resting against the expanse of Steve's chest and feeling him up and down. He grinds against him a little before they have to break apart to breathe, their faces nearly touching. Both of them are still dirty from the day's work, but neither of them care.

 

“... Let's have sex.”

 

Steve nearly chokes and his face and neck light up bright red. “Uh. Now? You sure?”

 

Bucky gives him a confused look. “Uh, yeah? I planned to...” His face softens a little, “I was gonna suggest we do it before everything... y'know. Hit the fan.” He slides off Steve's lap and reaches down to take his hand and lead him towards their bed.

 

“If you're sure...” Steve says, any hesitance in his words belying how eager he actually is.

 

Bucky grins, “Oh I'm sure.”

 

He falls back onto the bed, dragging Steve along with him with a yelp. They giggle like they're schoolkids again before the kissing starts anew. They grind together, hands exploring one another until they can feel how hard they are through their underwear. Steve is the first to take his off, tossing them aside before his hands find their way into the hem of Bucky's and slide them down slowly over his thighs. His cock springs upward and the garment is tossed before Steve leans down to place reverent kisses along the trail of hair under Bucky's belly button. He gets lower and lower until Bucky inhales sharply and grabs a fistful of blonde hair to stop him. Steve makes a curious noise and looks up, Bucky's face flush and his breathing heavy.

 

“We haven't done this in awhile. I actually want to have _sex,_ not come all over your face before you even get me ready.”

 

Steve can't help but laugh at that. “Sorry. It's just--”

 

Something in Steve's face twitches, like he might start crying, and the humor in Bucky's eyes fades. The fingers holding onto his hair start to slide along the strands and pet over the back of his head in understanding.

 

“I know.”

 

They both take a moment just to gaze at one another before Steve stretches over him to dig into the drawer by the bed, pulling out an unopened bottle of lube. As he settles back between Bucky's legs, Bucky can't help but raise a brow and let a small smirk stretch the corner of his lips.

 

“Captain America, always prepared.”

 

“Oh stop.” Steve huffs, but he's smiling.

 

He puts a small amount on his finger before slipping it downward, just enough to give it a smooth glide between Bucky's cheeks and press over his hole, rubbing and trying to ease him into feeling sensations there again. Bucky bites his bottom lip and pulls his legs up a little higher, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth.

 

Steve kisses the inside of Bucky's thigh as he works in one finger, pushing in and out slowly before he can feel it relax enough to go for two, then eventually three. By the time he's plunging three fingers in and out slowly Bucky is gripping his pillow above his head, hair askew, and face red as he pants and moans underneath him.

 

“Okay,” he manages to choke out, “I'm ready.”

 

“You sure? You always say that and it still--”

 

“Steven Grant Rogers--” Bucky starts, but Steve just laughs and pulls his fingers out so he can properly slick himself up.

 

“Okay, okay. You got it, Sarge.”

 

He positions himself, the head of his cock pressing against Bucky's entrance to give him enough warning before starting to push forward. Steve bites his lips and watches the perfect face that Bucky makes, one that he realizes has barely changed despite the near century they spent apart. Bucky doesn't realize he's holding his breath until Steve is fully inside him, and then he can't help but exhale roughly and start _giggling_.

 

Rather than take offense, Steve leans down and plants a kiss on Bucky's cheek. “What's so funny?”

 

Bucky has to gather himself before he's able to answer, legs shifting to lock over Steve's hips. “Nothin'. Just--” he pauses to jerk his hips a little and make Steve grunt, “--been waitin' for this for a long time. Forgot how good it feels.”

 

They share a look before they kiss, and only then does Steve start to move.

 

It isn't fast and rough like Steve remembers the last time they had sex, but slow and gentle. Here they aren't in danger of being found, or have a time limit. This isn't quick, dirty sex in the middle of a warzone, this is slow and sensual in their shared bedroom in a world where everyone knows they're together, where they don't have to worry about getting sent home or killed just for being queer.

 

It doesn't last long, neither of them have done this in a long, long time. Steve picks up the pace as he feels himself get towards the edge, but Bucky beats him to the punch. His arms wrap around Steve's neck and his back arches, their chests pressing against one another as Bucky comes between them. A few thrusts later and Steve follows, and just like that they're both spent.

 

Steve partially collapses on top of him, sliding out after a moment. They hold one another without saying a word. They don't _need_ to say anything.

 

They don't know how long they lay in bed, catching their breath and coming down from their high, but its long enough to start feeling gross-- more gross than they were even before the sex.

 

“Nnn. Shower.” Bucky mumbles, but makes no move to get up.

 

“Yeah.”

 

They do get up eventually, sharing a hot shower together and washing off the days grime along with everything else.

 

“So was it worth the wait?” Steve can't help but ask, watching Bucky stand under the water and let his long hair paste against his head and shoulders.

 

Bucky spits out a stream of water. “No.”

 

He opens an eye just to see the look on Steve's face and laughs, stepping towards him to plant a kiss on his lips. “Yes you big goof.”

 

Steve just laughs and pulls him in closer to kiss him again. “Asshole.”

 

They hold one another under the water. Bucky sucks in a breath.

 

“I love you.”

 

He can feel Steve relax and hold him tighter. “Love you too, Buck.”

 

**

 

A year comes and goes, and quite a lot can change in the span of a year. Not all of the clean-up is finished, but the majority is, and the world as a whole has slowly been getting back on its feet.

 

Steve and Bucky helped as much as they could before they had to call it quits for their own sanity. There would always be something to help out with, always a mess to clean up, but at some point you have to know when to take the time to care about yourself. It was a lesson that took Steve nearly a century to learn.

 

The morning is warm in Wakanda, which means the rest of the day is only going to get hotter. That's why its important to get an early start. Not that Steve ever needed help to be an early riser. The only thing that drags Bucky out of bed by the time Steve is coming back from his run is the fact that the goats need fed, and they make sure he knows that.

 

Loudly.

 

Steve runs, Bucky feeds the goats, and by the time he's showered himself off Bucky has started their own breakfast.

 

At least, he tries to.

 

“Holy _hell_ Alpine I GET IT.” Bucky groans at the cat screaming from the floor and trying to climb his leg. He finishes putting on the coffee before walking over to where they keep the pet food, having to step over Brooklyn, a shepard-looking mutt panting on the floor, on his way there. He scoops a bit of kibble into the bowl that's high up enough Brooklyn can't get to it, then shuffles back towards the kitchen, shooting their dog a death glare as she sits up at the sound of food going into a dish despite how tired she always is from her morning run with Steve. “Don't even think about it. You're hungry, talk to your dad.”

 

“Talk to me about what?” Steve asks as he walks into the kitchen to plant a kiss on Bucky's cheek and slipping a hand around his waist.

 

“About getting breakfast. Your daughter is hungry. I fed the rest of the kids, you feed Brooklyn. That was the deal when you asked to keep her.” He jabs the spatula half-covered in eggs towards the mutt on the floor.

 

“You talk about her like you don't love her just as much as I do.” Steve grins. He walks over to Brooklyn and her tail starts to thump on the floor as he coos at her about getting breakfast and being the best girl in the world. Bucky just rolls his eyes.

 

“I _do_ love her,” he says, before adding a “fuck you,” at the end for daring to imply otherwise.

 

After feeding Brooklyn Steve makes them both coffee, then they settle on the chairs sitting just outside their home, a modestly-sized hut built with all the modern (futuristic as far as they're concerned) amenities.

 

“Sam should be around in an hour or so.” Steve says through a mouthful of eggs.

 

“... You think he's going to take it? The shield?”

 

“I think so. And even if he doesn't, that's okay. It's his choice, but I can't think of anyone better to take over the mantle.”

 

Bucky hums in agreement. “He's a good guy. … Doesn't take any of your stupid shit.”

 

Steve laughs and nearly chokes on his breakfast. “Yeah. Yeah he doesn't.”

 

When they finish breakfast Steve does the washing up before Bucky heads out to the fields. He watches from a distance as Sam approaches their hut about an hour later, giving them distance. He can see when Steve produces the shield though, how Sam looks down at it for a long while before taking it and hanging his head, nodding, and then Steve putting an arm around his shoulders before it turns into a hug.

 

He must get too wrapped up in watching, because one of the goats bleats loudly at him. Bucky turns to look at it, then scratches it between the horns which seems to be what it wanted all along as it closes its eyes and leans into the touch.

 

Bucky sighs. Never in a million years had he thought his life could get to this point. He still has bad days. He still has nightmares. He knows they'll never go away, but things are better now. So much better.

 

Finally he can do more than kill. He can care. He uses his arm to feed the animals he's taken in, to cook dinner with Steve, to hold him in ways he never thought he would ever possibly be allowed to do in public.

 

As he looks out at the figures of Sam and Steve talking in front of their house, Bucky lets out a breath and finally realizes that this is his life now.

 

This is home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't mind me just gonna push all my touch trauma/being touch-starved at the same time onto fictional characters!!
> 
> This was an idea that came to me and I felt I should actually get it out. I PLAN to do more periods of Bucky's recovery as things become easier and easier for him, but I don't want to promise anything since my desire (and time) to write are fleeting. But I might make more of these, especially if I get good feedback.
> 
> First time I've written Bucky or Steve, so be gentle. I also only have experience with the movies and little else.


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